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SELECTED  READINGS  IN 
ENGLISH  HISTORY 


COMPILED  BY 

HARRIET  E.  iTUELL,  Ph.D. 

AND 

ROY  W.  HATCH,  A.B. 


OF  THE   DEPARTMENT   OF   HISTORY,  HIGH    SCHOOL 
SOMERVILLE,  MASSACHUSETTS 


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1.1  -  ,0^        »». 


GINN  AND  COMPANY 

BOSTON  ■  NEW  YORK  •  CHICAGO  •  LONDON 


COPYRIGHT,  1913,  BY 
HARRIET  E.  TUELL  and  ROY  W.  HATCH 


ALL   RIGHTS   RESERVED 
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GINN  AND  COMPANY  •  PRO- 
PRIETORS •  BOSTON  •  U.S.A. 


ci 


PREFACE 


j^.        In  offering  to  teachers  of  English  histor)^  a  new  collection 

[      of  readings  the  compilers  of  this  volume  believe  that  they 

I       arc  meeting  a  widely  recognized  need.     The  time  was  when 
I      teachers  in  convention  discussed  the  value  of  such  collateral 

^  reading.  Now  they  seek  for  ways  and  means.  The  value  of 
the  work  is  no  longer  in  question.  The  general  sentiment  of 
teachers  and  the  requirements  of  the  colleges  alike  demand 
more  than  the  best  textbook  can  offer. 

The  new  demand,  however,  creates  new  problems.  Where 
and  how  may  suitable  readings  be  obtained  }  The  best  equip- 
ment, undoubtedly,  is  furnished  by  a  large  school  library  with 
a  great  variety  of  books  from  which  to  choose  and  many 
uplicate  copies  of  the  most  useful  works.  But  the  expense 
involved  is  very  great  —  so  great  as  to  be  in  many  cases 
prohibitor)'.  The  best  alternative  appears  to  be  a  collection 
of  such  extracts  as  are  suited  to  the  purpose.  By  this  means 
the  pupil  is  furnished  at  moderate  cost  with  the  best  a  library 

■~\  affords.  If  the  selections  prove  interesting  he  is  impelled 
to  go  further  afield  by  himself. 

~N  The  selection  of  such  material  is  not  easy.  The  need  is  for 
vivid  and  interesting  reading  calculated  to  produce  a  clear 

^^nd  definite  impression.  At  first  sight  the  field  from  which 
one  may  choose  appears  wide  and  fruitful,  but  it  soon  narrows 
down  to  a  very  limited  area.  Selections  from  the  sources 
have  been  widely  recommended  and  somewhat  lavishly  sup- 
plied.    For  an  occasional   vivid   sidelight  they  are   indeed 

iii 


iv  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

unsurpassed ;  yet,  in  common  with  many  teachers,  we  beheve 
that  they  should  be  used  but  sparingly.  Speaking  generally, 
where  there  is  no  mental  background  of  historical  knowledge, 
the  student  gains  more  from  a  good  modern  narrative  than 
from  a  study  of  the  raw  materials  out  of  which  histories  are 
made.  Of  the  secondary  authorities  many  are  open  to  serious 
objections.  There  are  histories  which  are  as  interesting  as 
historical  novels  —  and  as  inaccurate.  Of  those  which  meet 
the  requirements  of  criticism  too  many  are  so  dull  as  to  in- 
spire a  permanent  distaste  for  historical  literature.  Excellent 
books  which  delight  the  mature  mind  are  not  always  suitable 
for  younger  readers.  Indeed  we  have  in  some  few^  cases  de- 
liberately passed  by  the  more  scholarly  work  for  another,  less 
masterly  in  treatment,  perhaps,  but  better  suited  to  the  taste 
and  capacity  of  the  high-school  pupil.  Sound  historical  con- 
tent combined  with  good  literary  workmanship  and  an  appeal 
to  vouthful  imagination  has  been  the  basis  of  selection.  The 
final  choice  of  material  has  been  dictated  by  experience. 
Except  for  a  few  extracts  not  readily  accessible,  these  read- 
ings have  stood  the  test  of  actual  class  work. 

The  selections  from  John  Bright,  C.  H.  Firth,  Lord 
Berners'  Froissart,  Justin  McCarthy  {Life  of  Gladstone), 
John  Milton,  Kate  Xorgate,  Frederic  Austin  Ogg,  and 
Goldwdn  Smith  are  used  by  arrangement  with  The  Macmillan 
Company  ;  and  the  selections  from  John  Fiske  and  James  K. 
Hosmer,  by  arrangement  with  Houghton  Mifflin  Company, 
the  authorized  publishers. 

The  compilers  take  this  opportunity  to  acknowledge  their 
indebtedness  to  the  following  publishing  houses:  to  D.  Apple- 
ton  and  Company  for  permission  to  print  selections  from 
The  Obvions  Orient,  Albert  Bushnell  Hart,  and  A  History 
of  England  in  the  Eighteenth  Century,  \V,  E.  H.  Lecky ; 


PREFACE  V 

to  VI.  P.  Dutton  &  Co.  for  the  poem  by  Andrew  Marvel ; 
to  Ginn  and  Company  for  the  use  of  Readings  in  English 
History,  E,  P.  Cheyney,  and  The  Development  of  Modem 
Europe,  Robinson  and  Beard  ;  to  Harper  &  Brothers  for 
readings  taken  from  The  Conquest  of  England  and  A  Short 
History  of  the  English  People,  J.  R.  Green;  to  Longmans, 
Green,  &  Co.  for  extracts  from  The  Age  of  Elizabeth,  Mandell 
Creighton ;  History  of  England,  160J-1642  and  Oliver 
Cromwell,  S.  R.  Gardiner  ;  Liberty  Documents,  Mabel  Hill ; 
The  Elements  of  English  Constitutional  History,  F.  C.  Mon- 
tague ;  The  Theory  and  Practice  of  the  English  Government, 
T.  F.  Moran  ;  and  A  Short  History  of  England,  Cyril  Ran- 
some  ;  to  McCliires  Magazine  for  the  article  entitled  Some 
English  Statesmen,  Sydney  Brooks  ;  to  the  Outlook  Com- 
pany for  the  editorial  from  The  Oictlook  ;  to  G.  P.  Putnam's 
Sons  for  the  use  of  The  Coming  of  the  Eriars  and  other  His- 
toric Essays,  C.  A.  Jessopp  ;  A  Literary  History  of  the 
English  People,  J.J.  Jusserand  ;  The  Story  of  the  People  of 
Engla7id  in  the  Nineteenth  Century,  Justin  McCarthy ;  and 
England  under  the  Stuarts,  G.  M.  Trevelyan  ;  to  Charles 
Scribner's  Sons  for  excerpts  from  The  Age  of  Anne,  E.  E. 
Morris,  and  English  Voyages  of  Adventure  and  Discovery, 
E.  M.  Bacon  ;  and  to  the  London  Times  for  The  True 
Conception  of  Empire,  Joseph  Chamberlain. 

Thanks  are  also  due  to  Professor  Arthur  C.  Howland  of 
the  University  of  Pennsylvania  for  permission  to  use  passages 
from  his  translation  of  the  Gcrmania  of  Tacitus  published  in 
the  University  of  Pennsylvania  Translations  and  Reprints. 

H.  E.  T. 
SoMKK\  iLi.E,  Massachusetts  R-  W.  H. 


CONTENTS 

NO.  '•AGE 

1.  The  Early  Germans Tacitus  i 

2.  The  Saxon  Sea-Rovers Apollinaris  Sidomus  9 

3.  The  Conversion  of  the  English Bede  11 

4.  The  Government  of  the  English   ....      Cyril  Ransome  15 

5.  DUNSTAN John  Richard  Green  19 

6.  Alfred  the  Great      Sir  Walter  Besatit  26 

7.  The  Coronation  of  William  the  Norman 

Edward  Augustus  Freeman  36 

8.  The  Results  of  the  Norman  Conque.st 

Ethoard  Augustus  Freeman  39 

9.  The  Charter  of  Henry  I Roger  of  Wendover  51 

10.  Henry  II Peter  of  Blois  55 

11.  Henry  II  and  Becket Alfred  Tennyson  59 

12.  Portrait  of  King  Richard  I    Richard  {of  the  Holy  Trinity?)  70 

13.  An  Incident  of  the  Third  Crusade 

Richard  {of  the  Holy  Trinity?)  71 

14.  The  Winning  of  the  Great  Charter    .    .    .    Kate  Norgate  74 

15.  The  Great  Charter,  12 1 5      . F.C.Montague  83 

16.  The  Significance  of  Magna  Charta Chatham  87 

17.  Simon  de  Montfort Charles  Bemont  89 

18.  The  Lament  of  Earl  Simon Anonymous  92 

19.  Daily  Life  in  a  Mediaeval  Monastery     .  Augustus  Jessopp  95 

20.  Village  Life  Si.x  Hundred  Years  Ago      .  Augustus  Jessopp  106 

21.  The  Towns,  Industrial  Villages,  and  Fairs 

//.  de  B.  Gihbins  122 

22.  Medi/EVAL  Towns  and  Gilds     ....      Edward  P.  Cheyney  129 

23.  Life  at  Oxford  University  in  the  Middle  Ages 

Goldwin  Smith  134 

24.  Bruce's  Address  to  his  Akmv  at  Bannock hurn 

Robert  Bums  145 

25.  The  Battle  of  Cressy Froissart  147 

vii 


viii  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

NO.  PAGE 

26.  The  Siege  of  Calais      FroissaH  156 

27.  Edward  the  Bl.a.CK  Prince  .     .     .       Arthur  Pert rhyn  Stanley  161 

28.  The  Voyages  of  John  Cabot  (Retold  from  Hakluyt) 

Edwin  M.  Bacon  172 

29.  The  Character  of  Henry  VIII J.  J.  Jusserand  177 

30.  The  Character  of  Wolsey Sebastian  Giustinian  185 

31.  The  Do\vnfall  of  Wolsey William  Shakespeare  187 

32.  Sir  Thomas  More William  Roper  194 

33.  The    Education    of    Lady    Jane    Grey    and    of    Queen 

Elizabeth Roger  Ascham  203 

34.  The  Character  of  Elizabeth      .    .    .     John  Richard  Green  206 

35.  Education  and  Accomplishments  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots 

George  Conn  211 

36.  An  Interview  between  Mary  Queen  of  Scots  and  John 

Xnox John  Knox  212 

37.  Mary  Queen  of  Scots  at  Carlisle     .      Sir  Francis  K^tollys  215 

38.  The  Elizabethan  Sea  Kings  and  the  Spanish  Armada 

John  Fiske  216 

39.  English  Life  in  Elizabeth's  Reign    .    .  Mandell  Creighton  222 

40.  The  Character  of  James  I John  Richard  Green  231 

41.  The  Divine  Right  of  Kings James  I  233 

42.  Of  Plimoth  Plantation William  Bradford  234 

43.  Sir  John  Eliot George  W.  Trevelyan  2i,i 

44.  The  Petition  of  Right Sir  John  Eliot  245 

45.  Attempted  Arrest  of   Five   Members   of  the   House  of 

Commons  by  Charles  I  .    .    .    .     Samuel  Raioson  Gardiner  250 

46.  John  Hampden Charles  H.  Firth  256 

47.  Defense  of  the  Earl  of  Strafford Strafford  266 

48.  Letters  of  Charles  I Charles  I  270 

49.  The  Death  of  Charles  I Andretv  Marvel  272 

50.  Oliver  Cromwell  (A  Royalist  View)     ....     Clarendon  273 

51.  To  the  Lord  General  Cromwell  (A  Puritan  View) 

John  Milton  275 

52.  Oliver  Cromwell  (A  Modern  View) 

Samuel  Rawson  Gardiner  276 

53.  The  Character  of  Charles  II     .    .    .     John  Richard  Green  277 

54.  The  Fire  in  London Samuel  Pepys  280 


CONTENTS  IX 

NO.  TAGE 

55.  Thk  So.Nf;  ok  the  We.stkrx  Men      .     Roboi.  Stephc/i  Hawker  284 

56.  The  State  of  Engl.and  i.n"  16S5  .   Thomas  Babington  Macaulay  286 

57.  The  Bill  ok  Rights,  16S9  (Selections  with  Notes) 

Mabel  Hill  310 

58.  The  Character  OK  William  III    Thomas  Babingion  Macaiilay  324 

59.  The  Duke  ok  Marlborough E.  E.  Morris  332 

60.  The  Enclanp  ok  Queen  Anne E.  E.  Morris  335 

61.  The  Causes  ok  the  American  Revolution  James  K.  Hosmer  345 

62.  William  Pitt  the  Elder  .      William  Edward  Hartpole  Lecky  350 

63.  The  War  with  America Chatham  359 

64.  Sale  of  Seats  in  Parliament  (Eighteenth  Century) 

Samuel  Rom  illy  364 

65.  The  Battle  ok  Trakalgar Robert  Southey  366 

66.  Ye  Mariners  of  England Thomas  Campbell  y]-j 

67.  The  Great  Rekorm  Bill Justin  McCarthy  379 

68.  Gladstone  and  Disraeli Justin  McCarthy  393 

69.  The  Industrial  Revolution     ....     Robinson  and  Beard  399 

70.  Richard  Cobden      John  Bright  415 

71.  Development  ok  the  English  Cabinet  .    .    /".  C  Montague  422 

72.  Cabinet  Government  in  England  .    .     Robinson  and  Beard  432 

73.  The  Extension  of  the  Franchise      William  Ewari  Gladstone  437 

74.  Home  Rule  for  Ireland  ....     William  Ewart  Gladstone  442 

75.  Asquith  and  Lloyd-George Sydney  Brooks  446 

76.  The   Restriction  of  the  Veto   Power  ok  the  House  of 

Lords H.  H.  Asquith  459 

77.  The  English  Revolution  ok   191  i    .    .    .      Outlook  Editorial  461 

78.  Impressions  of  Parliament Thomas  E.  Moran  467 

79.  Oriental  Pax  Britannica Albert  Bushnell  Hart  474 

80.  The  True  Conception  ok  Empire    .    .     Joseph  Chamberlain  4S3 

81.  The  Pl.'VCE  ok  the  Crown  in  the  English  Government 

Frederick  A.  Ogg  488 

82.  The  Parties  of  To-day Frederick  A.  Ogg  495 

BIBLIOGRAPHY 503 

INDEX 507 


SELECTED   READINGS    IN 
ENGLISH    HISTORY 

Number  i 
THE  EARLY  GERMANS 

Tacitus     Germania.    University  of   Pennsylvania   Translations  and   Re- 
prints, Vol.  VI.  No.  3,  Sects.  IV-XVII,  XX,  XXII,  XXIV,  XXVII. 
Translation  with  notes  by  A.  C.  Howland. 
Tacitus  was  a  famous  Roman  historian.    In  his  Germania  he  gave  a  de- 
scription of  the  Germanic  barbarians  as  they  appeared  to  Roman  observers 
in  the  first  century  .\.D. 

IV.  I  myself  subscribe  to  the  opinion  of  those  who  hold 
that  the  German  tribes  have  never  been  contaminated  by  in- 
termarriage with  other  nations,  but  have  remained  peculiar 
and  unmixed  and  wholly  unlike  other  people.  Hence  the 
bodily  type  is  the  same  among  them  all,  notwithstanding  the 
extent  of  their  population.  They  all  have  fierce  blue  eyes, 
reddish  hair  and  large  bodies  fit  only  for  sudden  exertion  ; 
they  do  not  submit  patiently  to  work  and  effort  and  cannot 
endure  thirst  and  heat  at  all,  though  cold  and  hunger  they 
are  accustomed  to  because  of  their  climate. 

\'.  In  general  the  country,  though  varying  here  and  there 
in  appearance,  is  covered  over  with  wild  forests  or  filth)- 
swamps,  being  more  luiniid  on  the  side  of  Gaul  but  bleaker 
toward  Noricum  and  Pannonia.  It  is  suitable  enough  for 
grain  but  does  not  permit  the  cultivation  of  fruit  trees  ;  and 


2  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

though  rich  in  flocks  and  herds  these  are  for  the  most  part 
small,  the  cattle  not  even  possessing  their  natural  beauty  nor 
.  spreading  horns.  The  people  take  pride  in  possessing  a  large 
number  of  animals,  these  being  their  sole  and  most  cherished 
wealth.  Whether  it  was  in  mercy  or  wrath  that  the  gods  de- 
nied them  silver  or  gold,  I  know  not.   .   .  . 

VI.  Not  even  iron  is  abundant,  as  is  shown  by  the  char- 
acter of  their  weapons.  Some  few  use  swords  or  long  spears, 
but  usually  they  carry  javelins,  called  in  their  language /ra;«^^r, 
tipped  with  a  short  narrow  piece  of  iron  but  so  sharp  and  so 
easy  to  handle  that  as  occasion  demands  they  employ  the 
same  weapon  for  fighting  at  close  range  or  at  a  distance. 
A  horseman  is  content  with  a  shield  and  a  javelin,  but  the 
footmen,  either  nude  or  lightly  clad  in  a  small  cloak,  rain 
missiles,  each  man  having  many  and  hurling  them  to  a  great 
distance.  .  .  .  One  would  say  that  on  the  whole  their  chief 
strength  lies  in  their  infantry.  A  picked  body  of  these  are 
chosen  from  among  all  the  youth  and  placed  in  advance  of  the 
line  where  they  fight  mixed  with  the  horsemen,  since  their 
swiftness  makes  them  fully  equal  to  engaging  in  a  cavalry 
contest.  .  .  .  They  carry  off  the  bodies  of  the  fallen  even 
when  they  are  not  victorious.  It  is  the  greatest  ignominy  to 
have  left  one's  shield  on  the  field,  and  it  is  unlawful  for  a 
man  so  disgraced  to  be  present  at  the  sacred  rites  or  to  enter 
the  assembly  ;  so  that  many  after  escaping  from  battle  have 
ended  their  shame  with  the.  halter. 

VII.  They  choose  their  kings  on  account  of  their  ancestry, 
their  generals  for  their  valor.  The  kings  do  not  have  free 
and  unlimited  power  and  the  generals  lead  by  example  rather 
than  command,  winning  great  admiration  if  they  are  energetic 
and  fight  in  plain  sight  in  front  of  the  line.  But  no  one  is 
allowed  to  put  a  culprit  to  death  or  to  imprison  him,  or  even 
to  beat  him  with  stripes  except  the  priests,  and  then  not  by 


THE  EARLY  GERMANS  3 

way  of  a  punishment  or  at  the  command  of  the  general  but 
as  though  ordered  by  the  god  who  they  believe  aids  them  in 
their  fighting.  Certain  figures  and  images  taken  from  their 
sacred  groves  they  carry  into  battle,  but  their  greatest  incite- 
ment to  courage  is  that  a  division  of  horse  or  foot  is  not 
made  up  by  chance  or  by  accidental  association  but  is  formed 
of  families  and  clans  ;  and  their  dear  ones  are  close  at  hand 
so  that  the  wailings  of  the  women  and  the  crying  of  the 
children  can  be  heard  during  the  battle.  These  are  for  each 
warrior  the  most  sacred  witnesses  of  his  bravery,  these  his 
dearest  applauders.  They  carry  their  wounds  to  their  mothers 
and  their  wives,  nor  do  the  latter  fear  to  count  their  number 
and  examine  them  while  they  bring  them  food  and  urge  them 
to  deeds  of  valor. 

VIII.  It  is  related  how  on  certain  occasions  their  forces 
already  turned  to  flight  and  retreating  have  been  rallied  by 
the  women  who  implored  them  by  their  prayers  and  bared 
their  breasts  to  their  weapons,  signifying  thus  the  captivity 
close  awaiting  them,  which  is  feared  far  more  intensely  on 
account  of  their  women  than  for  themselves  ;  to  such  an 
extent  indeed  that  those  states  are  more  firmly  bound  in  treaty 
among  whose  hostages  maidens  of  noble  family  are  also  re- 
quired. Further  they  believe  that  the  sex  has  a  certain  sanctity 
and  prophetic  gift,  and  they  neither  despise  their  counsels 
nor  disregard  their  answers.   .   .   . 

IX.  .  .  .  On  the  other  hand  they  hold  it  to  be  incon- 
sistent with  the  sublimity  of  the  celestials  to  confine  the  gods 
in  walls  made  by  hands,  or  to  liken  them  to  the  form  of  any 
human  countenance.  They  consecrate  woods  and  sacred 
groves  to  them  and  give  the  names  of  the  deities  to  that  hid- 
den mystery  which  they  perceive  by  faith  alone. 

X.  .  .  .  Even  the  practice  of  divination  from  the  notes  and 
flights  of  birds  is  known  ;  but  it  is  peculiar  to  this  people  to 


4  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

seek  omens  and  warnings  from  horses  also.  These  sacred 
animals  are  white  and  never  defiled  by  labor,  being  kept  at 
public  expense  in  the  holy  groves  and  woods.  They  are  yoked 
to  the  sacred  chariot  by  the  priest  and  the  king  or  chief  of 
the  tribe,  who  accompany  them  and  take  note  of  their  neigh- 
ing and  snorting.  In  no  other  kind  of  divination  is  there 
greater  confidence  placed  either  by  the  common  people  or 
by  the  nobles  ;  for  the  priests  are  considered  merely  the 
servants  of  the  gods,  but  the  horses  are  thought  to  be  ac- 
quainted with  their  counsels.  They  have  another  sort  of  div- 
ination whereby  they  seek  to  know  the  result  of  serious  wars. 
They  secure  in  any  way  possible  a  captive  from  the  hostile 
tribe  and  set  him  to  fight  with  a  warrior  chosen  from  their 
own  people,  each  using  the  weapons  of  his  own  country. 
The  victory  of  the  one  or  the  other  is  accepted  as  an  indica- 
tion of  the  results  of  the  war. 

XI,  Concerning  minor  affairs  the  chiefs  deliberate,  but  in 
important  affairs  all  the  people  are  consulted,  although  the 
subjects  referred  to  the  common  people  for  judgment  are 
discussed  beforehand  by  the  chiefs.  Unless  some  sudden  and 
unexpected  event  calls  them  together  they  assemble  on  fixed 
days  either  at  the  new  moon  or  the  full  moon,  for  they  think 
these  the  most  auspicious  times  to  begin  their  undertakings. 
They  do  not  reckon  time  by  the  number  of  days,  as  we  do, 
but  by  the  number  of  nights.  So  run  their  appointments, 
their  contracts  ;  the  night  introduces  the  day,  so  to  speak. 
A  disadvantage  arises  from  their  regard  for  liberty  in  that 
they  do  not  come  together  at  once  as  if  commanded  to  attend, 
but  two  or  three  days  are  wasted  by  their  delay  ia  assembling. 
When  the  crowd  is  sufficient  they  take  their  places  fully 
armed.  Silence  is  proclaimed  by  the  priests,  who  have  on 
these  occasions  the  right  to  keep  order.  Then  the  king  or  a 
chief  addresses  them,  each  being  heard  according  to  his  age, 


THE   EARLY  GERMANS  5 

noble  blood,  reputation  in  warfare  and  eloquence,  though  more 
because  he  has  the  power  to  persuade  than  the  right  to  com- 
mand. If  an  opinion  is  displeasing  they  reject  it  by  shouting; 
if  they  agree  to  it  they  clash  with  their  spears.  The  most 
complimentary  form  of  assent  is  that  which  is  expressed  by 
means  of  their  weapons. 

XII.  It  is  also  allowable  in  the  assembly  to  bring  up  accu- 
sations, and  to  prosecute  capital  offenses.  Penalties  are  dis- 
tinguished according  to  crime.  Traitors  and  deserters  are 
hung  to  trees.  Weaklings  and  cowards  and  those  guilty  of 
infamous  crimes  are  cast  into  the  mire  of  swamps  with  a 
hurdle  placed  over  their  heads. ^  This  difference  of  penalty 
looks  to  the  distinction  that  crime  should  be  punished  pub- 
licly while  infamy  should  be  hidden  out  of  sight.  Lighter 
offenses  also  are  punished  according  to  their  degree,  the 
guilty  parties  being  fined  a  certain  number  of  horses  or  cattle. 
A  part  of  the  fine  goes  to  the  king  or  the  tribe,  part  to  the 
injured  party  or  his  relatives.''^  In  these  same  assemblies 
arc  chosen  the  magistrates  who  decide  suits  in  the  cantons 
and  villages.  Each  one  has  the  assistance  of  a  hundred  asso- 
ciates as  advisers  and  with  power  to  decide. 

XIII.  .  .  .  Distinguished  rank  or  the  great  services  of 
their  parents  secure  even  for  mere  striplings  the  claim  to  be 
ranked  as  chiefs.  Thev  attach  themselves  to  certain  more 
experienced  chiefs  of  approved  merit ;  nor  are  they  ashamed 
to  be  looked  upon  as  belonging  to  their  followings.  There 
are  grades  even  within  the  train  of  followers  assigned  by  the 
judgment  of  its  leaders.  There  is  great  rivalry  among  these 
companions  as  to  who  shall  rank  first  with  the  chief,  and 
among  the  chiefs  as  to  who  shall  have  the  most  and  bravest 
followers.   .   .   . 

1  In  which  stones  could  be  thrown  to  cause  them  to  sink. 
■-  In  case  the  offense  was  homicide. 


6  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTOR 

XIV.  When  they  go  into  battle  it  is  a  disgrace  for  the 
chief  to  be  outdone  in  deeds  of  valor  and  for  the  following 
not  to  match  the  courage  of  their  chief ;  furthermore  for 
any  one  of  the  followers  to  have  survived  his  chief  and  come 
unharmed  out  of  a  battle  is  life-long  infamy  and  reproach.  It 
is  in  accordance  with  their  most  sacred  oath  of  allegiance  to 
defend  and  protect  him  and  to  ascribe  their  bravest  deeds  to 
his  renown.  The  chief  fights  for  victory  ;  the  men  of  his 
following,  for  their  chief.  .  .  .  Nor  could  you  persuade 
them  to  till  the  soil  and  await  the  yearly  produce  so  easily 
as  you  could  induce  them  to  stir  up  an  enemy  and  earn 
glorious  wounds.  Nay  even  they  think  it  tame  and  stupid 
to  acquire  by  their  sweat  what  they  can  purchase  by  their 
blood. 

XV.  In  the  intervals  of  peace  they  spend  little  time  in 
hunting  but  much  in  idleness,  given  over  to  sleep  and  eating ; 
all  the  bravest  and  most  warlike  doing  nothing,  while  the 
hearth  and  home  and  the  care  of  the  fields  is  given  over 
to  the  women,  the  old  men  and  the  various  infirm  members 
of  the  family.  The  masters  lie  buried  in  sloth  by  that  strange 
contradiction  of  nature  that  causes  the  same  men  to  love  indo- 
lence and  hate  peace.  .  -.  . 

XVI.  It  is  well  known  that  none  of  the  German  tribes 
live  in  cities,  nor  even  permit  their  dwellings  to  be  closely 
joined  to  each  other.  They  live  separated  and  in  various 
places,  as  a  spring  or  a  meadow  or  a  grove  strikes  their 
fancy.  They  lay  out  their  villages  not  as  with  us  in  connected 
or  closely-joined  houses,  but  each  one  surrounds  his  dwelling 
with  an  open  space,  either  as  a  protection  against  conflagra- 
tion or  because  of  their  ignorance  of  the  art  of  building.  They 
do  not  even  make  use  of  rough  stone  or  tiles.  They  use  for 
all  purposes  undressed  timber,  giving  no  beauty  or  comfort. 
Some  parts  they  plaster  carefully  with  earth  of  such  purity 


THE   EARLY  GERMANS  7 

and  brilliancy  as  to  form  a  substitute  for  painting  and  designs 
in  color.  They  are  accustomed  also  to  dig  out  subterranean 
caves  which  they  cover  over  with  great  heaps  of  manure  as  a 
refuge  against  the  cold  and  a  place  for  storing  grain,  for  re- 
treats of  this  sort  render  the  extreme  cold  of  their  winters 
bearable  and,  whenever  an  enemy  has  come  upon  them, 
though  he  lays  waste  the  open  country  he  is  either  ignorant 
of  what  is  hidden  underground  or  else  it  escapes  him  for  the 
very  reason  that  it  has  to  be  searched  for. 

XVII.  Generally  their  only  clothing  is  a  cloak  fastened 
with  a  clasp,  or  if  they  have  n't  that,  with  a  thorn  ;  this  being 
their  only  garment,  they  pass  whole  days  about  the  hearth  or 
near  a  fire.  .  .  .  The  women  wear  the  same  sort  of  dress  as 
the  men  except  that  they  wrap  themselves  in  linen  garments 
which  they  adorn  with  purple  stripes  and  do  not  lengthen  out 
the  upper  part  of  the  tunic  into  sleeves,  but  leave  the  arms 
bare  the  whole  length.  .  .  .  However,  their  marriage  code 
is  strict,  and  in  no  other  part  of  their  manners  are  they  to  be 
praised  more  than  in  this.  For  almost  alone  among  barbarian 
peoples  they  are  content  with  one  wife  each.   .   .  . 

XX.  In  every  household  the  children  grow  up  naked  and 
unkempt  into  that  lusty  frame  and  those  sturdy  limbs  that 
we  admire.  Each  mother  nurses  her  own  children  ;  they  are 
not  handed  over  to  servants  and  paid  nurses.  The  lord  and 
the  slave  are  in  no  way  to  be  distinguished  by  the  delicacy  of 
their  bringing  up.  They  live  among  the  same  flocks,  they 
lie  on  the  same  ground,  until  age  separates  them  and  valor 
distinguishes  the  free  born.  The  young  men  marry  late  and 
their  vigor  is  thereby  unimpaired.  Nor  is  the  marriage  of  the 
girls  hastened.  They  have  the  same  youthful  vigor,  the  same 
stature  as  the  young  men.  Thus  well-matched  and  strong 
when  they  marr>',  the  children  reproduce  the  robustness  of 
their  parents,   .   .  . 


8  READINGS   IN   ENGLISH   HISTORY 

XXII.  As  soon  as  they  awake  from  sleep,  which  they 
prolong  till  late  in  the  day,  they  bathe,  usually  in  warm  water 
as  their  winter  lasts  a  great  part  of  the  year.  After  the  bath 
they  take  food,  each  sitting  in  a  separate  seat  and  having  a 
table  to  himself.  Then  they  proceed  to  their  business  or  not 
less  often  to  feasts,  fully  armed.  It  is  no  disgrace  to  spend 
the  whole  day  and  night  in  drinking.  Quarreling  is  frequent 
enough  as  is  natural  among  drunken  men,  though  their  dis- 
putes are  rarely  settled  by  mere  wrangling  but  oftener  by 
bloodshed  and  wounds.  Yet  it  is  at  their  feasts  that  they 
consult  about  reconciling  enemies,  forming  family  alliances, 
electing  chiefs,  and  even  regarding  war  and  peace,  as  they 
think  that  at  no  other  time  is  the  mind  more  open  to  fair 
judgment  or  more  inflamed  to  mighty  deeds.  .  .  .  On  the 
next  day  the  matter  is  reconsidered  and  a  particular  advantage 
is  secured  on  each  occasion.  They  take  counsel  when  they 
are  unable  to  practise  deception  ;  they  decide  when  they 
cannot  be  misled. 

XXIV.  .  .  .  They  indulge  in  games  of  chance,  strange 
as  it  may  seem,  even  when  sober,  as  one  of  their  serious  oc- 
cupations, with  such  great  recklessness  in  their  gains  and 
losses  that  when  everything  else  is  gone  they  stake  their  lib- 
erty and  their  own  persons  on  the  last  and  decisive  throw. 
The  loser  goes  into  voluntary  slavery.  Though  he  may  be 
the  younger  and  stronger  of  the  two,  he  suffers  himself  to 
be  bound  and  led  away.  Such  is  their  stubbornness  in  a  bad 
practice.  They  themselves  call  it  honor.  They  sell  slaves  of 
this  description  to  others  that  they  may  not  feel  the  shame 
of  such  a  success. 

XXVII.  There  is  no  pomp  in  the  celebration  of  their  fu- 
nerals. The  only  custom  they  observe  is  that  the  bodies  of 
illustrious  men  should  be  burned  with  certain  kinds  of  wood. 
They  do  not  heap  garments  and  perfumes  upon  the  funeral 


IIIK  SAXON  SEA-ROVERS  9 

pile.  In  every  case  a  man's  arms  are  burned  with  him,  and 
sometimes  his  horse  also.  They  believe  that  stately  monu- 
ments and  sculptured  columns  oppress  the  dead  with  their 
weight ;  the  green  sod  alone  covers  their  graves.  Their  tears 
and  lamentations  are  quickly  laid  aside ;  sadness  and  grief 
linger  long.  It  is  fitting  for  women  to  mourn,  for  men  to 
remember. 

Such  are  the  facts  I  have  obtained  in  general  concerning 
the  origin  and  customs  of  the  Germans  as  a  whole. 


Number  2 
THE  SAXON  SEA-ROVERS 

AiHjLLiN'ARis  SiDuNius.  Lcttcrs.  Thomas  Ilodgkin,  Italv  a?id  her  Iii- 
vaders.  Vol.  II,  pp.  366-367. 
At  the  end  of  a  long  letter,  written  by  Sidonius  to  his  friend  Xammatius, 
after  dull  compliments  and  duller  banter,  we  suddenly  find  flashed  upon  us 
this  life-like  picture,  by  a  contemporary  hand,  of  the  brothers  and  cousins 
of  the  men,  if  not  of  the  very  men  themselves  who  had  fought  at  Aylesford 
under  Ilengcst  and  Ilorsa,  or  who  were  slowly  winning  the  kingdom  of  the 
South  Saxons.  —  T.  11. 

"  Behold,  when  1  was  on  the  point  of  concluding  this  epistle 
in  which  1  have  already  chattered  on  too  long,  a  messenger 
suddenly  arrived  from  Saintongc  with  whom  I  have  spent 
some  hours  in  conversing  about  you  and  your  doings,  and 
who  constantly  affirms  that  }ou  have  just  sounded  your 
trumpet  on  board  the  fleet,  and  that,  combining  the  duties 
of  a  sailor  and  a  soldier,  you  are  roaming  along  the  winding 
shores  of  the  Ocean,  looking  out  for  the  curved  jjinnaces  of 
the  Saxons.  When  you  see  the  rowers  of  that  nation  \ou 
may  at  once  make  up  \-our  mind  that  every  one  of  them  is 
an  arch-pirate  ;  with  such  wonderful  unanimity  do  all  at  once 
command,  obey,  teach,  and  learn  their  one  chosen  business 


lO  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

of  brigandage.  For  this  reason  I  ought  to  warn  you  to  be 
more  than  ever  on  your  guard  in  this  warfare.  Your  enemy 
is  the  most  truculent  of  all  enemies.  Unexpectedly  he  at- 
tacks, when  expected  he  escapes,  he  despises  those  who  seek 
to  block  his  path,  he  overthrows  those  who  are  off  their  guard, 
he  always  succeeds  in  cutting  off  the  enemy  whom  he  follows, 
while  he  never  fails  when  he  desires  to  effect  his  own  escape. 
Moreover,  to  these  men  a  shipwreck  is  capital  practice  rather 
than  an  object  of  terror.  The  dangers  of  the  deep  are  to 
them,  not  casual  acquaintances,  but  intimate  friends.  For 
since  a  tempest  throws  the  invaded  off  their  guard,  and  pre- 
vents the  invaders  from  being  descried  from  afar,  they  hail 
with  joy  the  crash  of  waves  on  the  rocks,  which  gives  them 
their  best  chance  of  escaping  from  other  enemies  than  the 
elements, 

'  Then  again,  before  they  raise  the  deep-biting  anchor  from 
the  hostile  soil,  and  set  sail  from  the  Continent  for  their  own 
country,  their  custom  is  to  collect  the  crowd  of  their  prisoners 
together,  by  a  mockery  of  equity  to  make  them  cast  lots  which 
of  them  shall  undergo  the  iniquitous  sentence  of  death,  and 
then  at  the  moment  of  departure  to  slay  every  tenth  man  so 
selected  by  crucifixion,  a  practice  which  is  the  more  lamen- 
table because  it  arises  from  a  superstitious  notion  that  they 
will  thus  ensure  for  themselves  a  safe  return.  Purifying  them- 
selves as  they  consider  by  such  sacrifices,  polluting  them- 
selves as  we  deem  by  such  deeds  of  sacrilege,  they  think  the 
foul  murders  which  they  thus  commit  are  acts  of  worship  to 
their  gods,  and  they  glory  in  extorting  cries  of  agony  instead 
of  ransoms  from  these  doomed  victims.' 


THE  CONVERSION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  1 1 

Ntimber  j 
THE  CONVERSION  OF  THE  ENGLISH 

Bede.  Ecclesiastical  History  of  the  English  Nation,  Lib.  I,  c.  25;  Lib.  II, 
c.  13.  Translated  by  J.  A.  (liles. 
Bede  has  been  called  the  "  Father  of  English  History."  His  Ecclesiastical 
History  of  the  English  Nation,  written  in  the  first  part  of  the  eighth  cen- 
tury, is  the  chief  source  of  information  for  the  early  history  of  the  English 
people. 

I 

THE  MISSION  OF  AUGUSTINE 

Augustine,  thus  strengthened  by  the  confirmation  of  the 
blessed  Father  Gregory,^  returned  to  the  work  of  the  word 
of  God,  with  the  servants  of  Christ,  and  arrived  in  Britain. 
The  powerful  Ethclbert  was  at  this  time  king  of  Kent ;  he 
had  extended  his  dominions  as  far  as  the  great  river  H umber, 
by  which  the  Southern  Saxons  are  divided  from  the  Northern. 
On  the  east  of  Kent  is  the  large  Isle  of  Thanet  containing 
according  to  the  English  way  of  reckoning,  600  families, 
divided  from  the  other  land  by  the  river  Wantsum,  which  is 
about  three  furlongs  over,  and  fordable  only  in  two  places, 
for  both  ends  of  it  run  into  the  sea.  In  this  island  landed 
the  servant  of  our  Lord,  Augustine,  and  his  companions, 
being,  as  is  reported,  nearly  forty  men.  They  had,  by  order 
of  the  blessed  Pope  Gregory,  taken  interpreters  of  the  nation 
of  the  Franks,  and  sending  to  Ethclbert,  signified  that  they, 
were  come  from  Rome,  and  brought  a  joyful  message,  which 
most  undoubtedly  assured  to  all  that  took  advantage  of  it 
everlasting  joys  in  heaven,  and  a  kingdom  that  would  never 
end,  with  the  living  and  true  God.  The  king,  having  heard 
this,  ordered  them  to  stay  in  that  island  where  they  had  landed, 

1  Pope  Gregory  1,  who  sent  Augustine  into  Britain. 


12  READINGS  IN   ENGLISH   HISTORY 

and  that  they  should  be  furnished  with  all  necessaries,  till  he 
should  consider  what  to  do  with  them.     For  he  had  before 
heard  of  the  Christian  religion,  having  a  Christian  w^ife  of 
the  royal  family  of  the  Franks,  called  Bertha ;  whom  he  had 
received  from  her  parents,  upon  condition  that  she  should  be 
permitted  to  practise  her  religion  with  the  Bishop  Luidhard, 
who  was  sent  with  her  to  preserve  her  faith.     Some  days  after, 
the  king  came  into  the  island,  and  sitting  in  the  open  air, 
ordered  Augustine  and  his  companions  to  be  brought  into  his 
presence.    For  he  had  taken  precaution  that  they  should  not 
come  to  him  in  any  house,  lest,  according  to  an  ancient  super- 
stition, if  they  practised  any  magical  arts,  they  might  impose 
upon  him,  and  so  get  the  better  of  him.    But  they  came 
furnished  with  Divine,  not  with  magic  virtue,  bearing  a  silver 
cross  for  their  banner,  and  the  image  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour 
painted  on  a  board  ;  and  singing  the  litany,  they  offered  up 
their  prayers  to  the  Lord  for  the  eternal  salvation  both  of 
themselves  and  of  those  to  whom  they  were  come.  When  he 
had  sat  down,  pursuant  to  the  king's  commands,  and  preached 
to  him  and  his  attendants  there  present,  the  word  of  life,  the 
king  answered  thus  :  —  "  Your  words  and  promises  are  very 
fair,  but  as  they  are  new  to  us,  and  of  uncertain  import,  I 
cannot  approve  of  them  so  far  as  to  forsake  that  which  I  have 
so  long  followed  with  the  whole  English  nation.   But  because 
you  are  come  from  far  into  my  kingdom,  and,  as  I  conceive, 
are  desirous  to  impart  to  us  those  things  which  you  believe  to 
•be  true,  and  most  beneficial,  we  will  not  molest  you,  but  give 
you  favourable  entertainment,  and  take  care  to  supply  you  with 
your  necessary  sustenance  ;  nor  do  we  forbid  you  to  preach 
and  gain  as  many  as  you  can  to  your  religion."    Accordingly 
he  permitted  them  to  reside  in  the  city  of  Canterbury,  which 
was  the  metropolis  of  all  his  dominions,  and,  pursuant  to  his 
promise,  besides  allowing  them  sustenance,  did  not  refuse 


THE  COWKRSIOX  C)V    I  HE  ENGLISH 


13 


them  liberty  to  preach.  It  is  reported  that,  as  they  drew  near 
to  the  city,  after  their  manner,  with  the  holy  cross,  and  the 
image  of  our  sovereign  Lord  and  King,  Jesus  Christ,  they, 
in  concert,  sung  this  litany  :  "  We  beseech  thee,  O  Lord,  in 
all  thy  mercy,  that  thy  anger  and  wrath  be  turned  away  from 
this  city,  and  from  thy  holy  house,  because  we  have  sinned. 
Hallelujah." 

II 

THE  CONVERSION   OF  NORTHUiMBRIA 

The  king,i  hearing  these  words,  answered,  that  he  was  both 
willing  and  bound  to  receive  the  faith  which  he  taught ;  but 
that  he  would  confer  about  it  with  his  principal  friends  and 
counsellors,  to  the  end  that  if  they  also  were  of  his  opinion, 
they  might  all  together  be  cleansed  in  Christ  the  Fountain  of 
Life.  Paulinus  consenting,  the  king  did  as  he  said  ;  for, 
holding  a  council  with  the  wise  men,  he  asked  of  every  one 
in  particular  what  he  thought  of  the  new  doctrine,  and  the 
new  worship  that  was  preached .?  To  which  the  chief  of  his 
own  priests,  Coifi,  immediately  answered,  "'  O  king,  consider 
what  this  is  which  is  now  preached  to  us  ;  for  I  verily  declare 
to  you,  that  the  religion  which  we  have  hitherto  professed  has, 
as  far  as  I  can  learn,  no  virtue  in  it.  For  none  of  your  people 
has  applied  himself  more  diligently  to  the  worship  of  our 
gods  than  I  ;  and  yet  there  are  many  who  receive  greater 
favours  from  )-ou,  and  are  more  preferred  than  I,  and  are 
more  prosperous  in  all  their  undertakings.  Now  if  the  gods 
were  good  for  any  thing,  they  would  rather  forward  me,  who 
have  been  more  careful  to  serve  them.  It  remains,  therefore, 
that  if  upon  examination  you  find  those  new  doctrines,  which 
are  now  preached  to  us,  better  and  more  efficacious,  we  im- 
mediately receive  them  without  any  delay." 

1  Edwin,  king  of  Northumbria. 


H 


READINGS  IX  ENGLISH  HISTORY 


Another  of  the  king's  chief  men,  approving  of  his  words 
and  exhortations,  presently  added  :  "  The  present  hfe  of  man, 
O  king,  seems  to  me,  in  comparison  of  that  time  which  is 
unknown  to  us,  hke  to  the  swift  flight  of  a  sparrow  through 
the  room  wherein  you  sit  at  supper  in  winter,  with  your  com- 
manders and  ministers,  and  a  good  fire  in  the  midst,  whilst 
the  storms  of  rain  and  snow  prevail  abroad  ;  the  sparrow,  I 
say,  flying  in  at  one  door,  and  immediately  out  at  another, 
whilst  he  is  within,  is  safe  from  the  wintry  storm  ;  but  after  a 
short  space  of  fair  weather,  he  immediately  vanishes  out  of 
your  sight,  into  the  dark  winter  from  which  he  had  emerged. 
So  this  life  of  man  appears  for  a  short  space,  but  of  what  went 
before,  or  what  is  to  follow,  we  are  utterly  ignorant.  If, 
therefore,  this  new  doctrine  contains  something  more  certain, 
it  seems  justly  to  deserve  to  be  followed."  The  other  eldeis 
and  king's  counsellors,  by  Divine  inspiration,  spoke  to  the 
same  effect. 

But  Coifi  added,  that  he  wished  more  attentively  to  hear 
Paulinus  discourse  concerning  the  God  whom  he  preached  ; 
which  he  having  by  the  king's  command  performed,  Coifi, 
hearing  his  words,  cried  out,  "  I  have  long  since  been  sensible 
that  there  was  nothing  in  that  which  we  worshipped  ;  be- 
cause the  more  diligently  I  sought  after  truth  in  that  worship, 
the  less  I  found  it.  But  now  I  freely  confess,  that  such  truth 
evidently  appears  in  this  preaching  as  can  confer  on  us  the 
gifts  of  life,  of  salvation,  and  of  eternal  happiness.  For 
which  reason  I  advise,  O  king,  that  we  instantly  abjure  and 
set  fire  to  those  temples  and  altars  which  we  have  consecrated 
without  reaping  any  benefit  from  them."  In  short,  the  king 
publicly  gave  his  licence  to  Paulinus  to  preach  the  Gospel, 
and,  renouncing  idolatr}^  declared  that  he  received  the  faith 
of  Christ :  and  when  he  inquired  of  the  high  priest  who  should 
first  profane  the  altars  and  temples  of  their  idols,  with  the 


TIIK  (lOVERXMKNT  OF  THE  ENGLISH  15 

enclosures  that  were  about  them,  he  answered,  ""  I  ;  for  who 
can  more  properly  than  myself  destroy  those  things  which  I 
worshipped  through  ignorance,  for  an  example  to  all  others, 
through  the  wisdom  which  has  been  given  me  by  the  true 
God?"  Then  immediately,  in  contempt  of  his  former  su- 
perstitions, he  desired  the  king  to  furnish  him  with  arms  and 
a  stallion  ;  and  mounting  the  same,  he  set  out  to  destroy  the 
idols  ;  for  it  was  not  lawful  before  for  the  high  priest  either 
to  carry  arms,  or  to  ride  on  any  but  a  marc.  Having,  there- 
fore, girt  a  sword  about  him,  with  a  spear  in  his  hand,  he 
mounted  the  king's  stallion  and  proceeded  to  the  idols.  The 
multitude,  beholding  it,  concluded  he  was  distracted  ;  but  he 
lost  no  time,  for  as  soon  as  he  drew  near  the  temple  he  pro- 
faned the  same,  casting  into  it  the  spear  which  he  held  ; 
and  rejoicing  in  the  knowledge  of  the  worship  of  the  true 
God,  he  commanded  his  companions  to  destroy  the  temple, 
with  all  its  enclosures,  b\-  (ire. 


Ntimba'-  4. 
THE  GOVERNMENT  OE  THE  ENGLISH 

CVKii.  Ransome.    a  Short  History  of  England,  pp.  20-22. 

We  saw  tliat  in  all  probability  the  luiglish  kingdoms  were 
formed  gradually  by  the  union  of  a  number  of  small  settle- 
ments, just  as  the  kingdom  of  l^lngland  was  formed,  in  its 
turn,  by  the  union  of  the  smaller  kingdoms  themselves. 

The  larger  kingdoms,  such  as  Wessex  and  Mercia,  were 
divided  into  shires  ;  the  smaller,  such  as  Essex  and  Sussex, 
also  became  shires  after  tlK'\-  lost  their  own  kings  and  were 
made  part  of  one  of  the  larger  kingdoms.  Each  shire  was 
divided   into  smaller  districts  called  hundreds,  whicli  were 


l6  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH   HISTORY 

larger  or  smaller  in  different  parts  of  England.  Each  hun- 
dred contained  a  number  of  townships.  The  officer  of  the 
township  was  the  town-reeve.  He  called  the  grown  men  of  the 
township  to  meet  in  the  town-moot ;  there  they  settled  matters 
which  concerned  the  township.  If  the  town  was  defended  by 
a  mound,  it  was  called  a  burgh,  a  borough,  or  bury,  which  are 
only  different  ways  of  spelling  the  same  word,  which  means 
defence.  The  head  officer  of  a  borough  was  called  a  borough- 
reeve.  If  the  town  was  a  place  of  trade  he  was  not  unfrequently 
called  a  port-reeve.  The  men  of  the  township  had  to  keep  in 
repair  the  bridges  and  fortifications  which  the  township  con- 
tained, and,  if  need  were,  they  had  to  fight.  The  hundred  was 
presided  over  by  the  hundred-man,  or  hundred-elder.  Its 
meeting  was  the  hundred-moot,  and  this  dealt  with  the  busi- 
ness of  the  hundred.  The  head  of  the  shire  was  the  ealdor- 
man,  elderman,  or  alderman,  who  was  placed  over  it  by  the 
king  and  wise  men  of  the  whole  kingdom.  Beside  him,  in 
Christian  times,  was  the  bishop  ;  and  the  king  was  represented 
by  the  shire-reeve,  or,  as  we  now  call  him,  sheriff.  The  meet- 
ing of  the  men  of  the  shire  was  called  the  shire-moot.  There 
they  settled  all  quarrels.  If  a  man  was  accused  of  theft  or 
murder,  he  had  to  get  his  relations  to  swear  that  he  was  in- 
nocent. If  they  did  not  do  this,  he  was  put  to  the  ordeal  ; 
i.  e.  he  had  to  plunge  his  hand  into  boiling  water,  carry  a  bar 
of  red-hot  iron,  or  walk  over  red-hot  ploughshares,  and  if  he 
was  not  healed  in  the  course  of  a  fixed  time,  he  was  held 
guilty  and  punished.  Punishment  usually  consisted  of  a  fine 
paid  to  the  sufferers,  or  to  the  family  of  the  slaughtered  man, 
and  an  extra  fine  was  paid  to  the  king. 

When  war  was  to  be  made,  or  the  country  was  invaded,  word 
was  sent  to  the  ealdormen,  each  of  whom  sent  notice  to  the 
hundred-men  of  his  shire  to  meet  at  an  appointed  place.  Each 
hundred-man  called  on  the  town-reeves  of  his  hundred.   They 


'I'HK  GOVERNMENT  OV    I  UK  ENGLISH  17 

assembled  the  men  of  each  township.  l'2very  man  between 
sixteen  and  sixty  had  to  come  ;  they  ranged  themselves  in 
families,  and  marched,  under  the  command  of  the  reeve  and 
the  parish  priest,  to  the  meeting-place  of  the  hundred.  There 
they  met  the  men  of  other  townships,  and,  forming  one  body, 
they  marched  under  the  hundred-man  to  the  meeting-place  of 
the  shire,  where  the  whole  force  of  the  shire  was  united 
under  the  lead  of  the  ealdorman  and  the  bishop ;  and  then 
marched  against  the  enemy,  or  joined  the  men  of  other  shires, 
as  the  case  might  be.  The  whole  force  collected  in  this  way 
was  called  the  Fyrd.  In  this  way  the  shire  managed  its  own 
affairs,  its  own  justice,  and  was  able  to  fight  its  own  battles. 

A  group  of  shires  made  the  kingdom.  This  was  governed 
by  the  king  and  his  witena-gemot,  which  means  "  meeting  of 
the  wise  men."  Every  man  could  not  come  to  the  witena- 
gemot.  It  was  made  up  of  the  king  and  the  members  of  his 
family,  the  ealdormen,  the  archbishops  and  bishops,  and  the 
king's  thegns.  The  king's  thegns  were  originally  the  king's 
servants.  The  bishops  and  ealdormen  also  had  thegns.  But, 
among  the  English,  it  was  thought  an  honour  to  be  the  serv- 
ant of  a  great  man,  so  the  king's  thegns  were  really  nobles. 
Even  in  the  large  kingdoms  the  witena-gemot  was  quite  a 
small  body  ;  but  it  is  very  important,  because  the  Parliament 
of  our  own  day  is  the  representative  of  the  old  witena-gemot, 
as  we  shall  see  by-and-by. 

The  witena-gemot  elected  the  king ;  but  it  very  rarely 
chose  a  man  who  was  not  a  member  of  the  royal  family.  The 
late  king's  eldest  son  was  usually  chosen,  but  if  he  was  young, 
foolish,  or  very  wicked,  they  preferred  the  late  king's  brother. 
If  the  king  turned  out  badly,  they  often  deposed  him,  and 
set  up  another  in  his  stead.  Besides  this,  the  archbishops, 
bishops,  and  ealdormen  were  named  bv  the  king  in  the 
witena-gemot.    Questions  of  peace  and  war  were  discussed 


l8  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

by  the  wise  men  ;  they  settled  disputes  among  the  great  men. 
In  fact,  they  helped  the  king  to  govern. 

The  king,  on  the  other  hand,  had  great  power.  As  the 
supposed  descendant  of  Woden,  he  was  looked  upon  with 
awe.  His  family  were  royal.  The  whole  kingdom  looked  up 
to  him  as  its  representative.  In  war  he  led  the  army.  The 
nobles  were  the  king's  thegns.  He  had  palaces  and  estates. 
The  power  of  the  king  varied  with  the  size  of  his  kingdom, 
for  the  King  of  Northumbria  was  naturally  a  much  greater 
man  than  the  King  of  Sussex,  and  as  England  became  more 
and  more  united,  the  power  of  the  kings  steadily  grew. 

In  each  English  shire  there  was  a  quantity  of  land  which 
belonged  to  the  settlement,  but  had  not  been  given  to  any 
one  man.  This  was  called  folkland.  The  king  and  the  wise 
men  used  to  make  grants  of  this  land,  and  the  pieces  thus 
granted  were  called  bocland,  because  they  were  given  to  their 
owners  by  book  or  title-deed.  By-and-by  the  kings  began  to 
give  out  this  land  without  consulting  the  wise  men,  and  this 
helped  them  to  increase  their  power,  because  men  looked  to 
them  for  reward. 

Thus  we  see  that  each  shire  was  strong  and  well  organ- 
ized ;  but  the  kingdoms  were  weak,  because  the  shires,  many 
of  which  had  been  originally  hostile  settlements,  had  little 
sympathy  with  each  other.  This  made  it  very  hard  to  make 
England  into  a  strong  kingdom. 


DUNSTAN  19 

N timber  5 
DUNSTAN 

John  Richard  Green.    The  Conquest  of  England,  pp.  269-275,  281-283, 
286-287,  304-309. 

With  the  death  of  Eadmund  a  new  figure  comes  to  the 
front  of  English  affairs,  and  the  story  of  Abbot  Dunstan  of 
Glastonbury  gives  us  a  welcome  glimpse  into  the  inner  life 
of  England  at  a  time  when  history  hides  it  from  us  beneath 
the  weary  details  of  wars  with  the  Danes.  In  the  heart  of 
Somerset,  at  the  base  of  the  Tor,  a  hill  that  rose  out  of  the 
waste  of  flood-drowned  fen  which  then  filled  the  valley  of 
Glastonbury,  lay  in  yEthelstan's  day  the  estate  of  Heorstan, 
a  man  of  wealth  and  noble  blood,  the  kinsman  of  three 
bishops  of  the  time  and  of  many  thegns  of  the  court,  if  not 
of  the  king  himself.  It  was  in  Heorstan's  hall  that  his  son 
Dunstan,  as  yet  a  fair,  diminutive  child,  with  scant  but  beau- 
tiful hair,  caught  the  passion  for  music  that  showed  itself  in 
his  habit  of  carrying  harp  in  hand  on  journey  or  visit,  as  in 
his  love  for  the  "  vain  songs  of  ancient  heathendom,  the 
trifling  legends,  and  funeral  chants,"  relics,  doubtless,  of  a 
mass  of  older  poetry  that  time  has  reft  from  us.  But  nobler 
strains  than  those  of  ancient  heathendom  were  round  the 
child  as  he  grew  to  boyhood.  Alfred's  strife  with  the  North- 
men was  fresh  in  the  memory  of  all.  Athelney  lay  a  few 
miles  off  across  the  Polden  hills  ;  and  Wedmore,  where  the 
final  frith  was  made  .  .  .  ,  rose  out  of  the  neighboring  marshes. 
Memories  of  Inc  met  the  boy  as  he  passed  to  school  at 
Glastonbury,  which  .still  remained  notable  as  a  place  of  pil- 
grimage, though  but  a  few  secular  priests  clung  to  the  house 
which  the  king  had  founded,  and  its  lands  had  for  the  most 
part  been  stripped  from  it.    The  ardor  of  Dunstan 's  temper 


20  READINGS   IN   ENGLISH   HISTORY 

was  seen  in  the  eagerness  with  which  he  plunged  into  the 
study  of  letters  ;  and  his  knowledge  became  at  last  so  famous 
in  the  neighborhood  that  news  of  it  reached  the  court.  Dun- 
stan  was  called  there,  no  doubt,  as  one  of  the  young  nobles 
who  received  their  training  in  attendance  on  the  king  during 
boyhood  and  early  youth  ;  but  his  appearance  was  the  signal 
for  a  burst  of  jealousy  among  the  royal  thegns,  though  many 
were  kinsmen  of  his  own  ;  he  was  forced  to  withdraw,  and 
when  he  was  again  summoned,  on  the  accession  of  Eadmund, 
his  rivals  not  only  drove  him  from  the  king's  train,  but 
threw  him  from  his  horse  as  he  rode  through  the  marshes, 
and  with  the  wild  passion  of  their  rage  trampled  him  under- 
foot in  the  mire. 

The  outrage  brought  fever,  and  in  the  bitterness  of  dis- 
appointment and  shame  Dunstan  rose  from  his  bed  of  sick- 
ness a  monk.  But  in  England  the  monastic  profession  was 
at  this  time  little  more  than  a  vow  of  celibacy  and  clerical 
life,  and  his  devotion  took  no  ascetic  turn.  His  nature,  in 
fact,  was  sunny,  versatile,  artistic,  full  of  strong  affections,  and 
capable  of  inspiring  others  with  affections  as  strong.  Through- 
out his  life  he  won  the  love  of  women,  and  in  these  earlier 
years  of  retirement  at  Glastonbur}-  he  became  the  spiritual 
guide  of  a  woman  of  high  rank  who  lived  only  for  charity 
and  the  entertainment  of  pilgrims.  "  He  ever  clave  to  her 
and  loved  her  in  wondrous  fashion."  Quick-witted,  of  tena- 
cious memor)^,  a  ready  and  fluent  speaker,  gay  and  genial  of 
address,  an  artist,  a  musician,  an  indefatigable  worker  alike 
at  books  or  handicraft,  his  sphere  of  activity  widened  as  the 
wealth  of  his  devotee  was  placed  unreservedly  at  his  com- 
mand. We  see  him  followed  by  a  train  of  pupils,  busy  with 
literature,  harping,  painting,  designing.  In  one  pleasant  tale 
of  these  days  a  lady  summons  him  to  her  house  to  design  a 
robe  which  she  is  embroidering,  and  as  Dunstan  bends  with 


DUNSTAN  21 

her  maidens  over  their  toil,  the  harp  which  he  has  hung 
on  the  wall  sounds,  without  mortal  touch,  tones  which  the 
startled  ears  around  frame  into  a  joyous  antiphon.  But 
the  tie  which  bound  Dunstan  to  this  scholar-life  was  broken 
by  the  death  of  his  patroness  ;  and  towards  the  close  of 
Eadmund's  reign  the  young  scholar  was  again  called  to  the 
court.  Even  in  /Ethelstan's  day  he  seems  to  have  been 
known  to  both  the  younger  sons  of  Eadward  the  Elder ;  and 
with  one  of  these,  Eadred,  his  friendship  became  of  the 
closest  kind.  But  the  old  jealousies  revived  ;  his  life  was 
again  in  danger ;  and  the  game  seemed  so  utterly  lost  that 
Dunstan  threw  himself  on  the  protection  of  some  envoys  who 
had  come  at  this  time  from  the  German  court  of  Otto  to  the 
English  king.  He  was  preparing  to  return  with  them  to 
their  home  in  Saxony  when  an  unlooked-for  chance  restored 
him  suddenly  to  power.  A  red-deer  w^hich  Eadmund  was 
chasing  over  Mendip  dashed  down  the  Cheddar  cliffs,  and 
the  king  only  checked  his  horse  on  the  brink  of  the  ravine. 
In  the  bitterness  of  anticipated  death  he  had  repented  of  his 
injustice  to  Dunstan,  and  on  his  return  from  the  chase  the 
young  priest  was  summoned  to  his  presence.  "  Saddle  your 
horse,"  said  Eadmund,  "  and  ride  with  me  !  "  The  royal 
train  swept  over  the  marshes  to  Dunstan's  home,  and  greet- 
ing him  with  the  kiss  of  peace,  the  king  seated  him  in  the 
abbot's  chair,  as  Abbot  of  Glastonbur)-. 

From  that  moment  Dunstan  ma}-  have  exercised  some  in- 
fluence on  public  affairs ;  but  it  was  not  till  Eadmund's 
murder  that  his  influence  became  supreme.  Eadmund  was 
but  twenty-five  years  old  w'hen  he  died  ;  and  as  his  children, 
Eadwig  and  Eadgar,  were  too  young  to  follow  him  on  the 
throne,  the  crown  passed  to  his  last  surviving  brother,  the 
/Etheling  Eadred.  Eadred  had  long  been  bound  by  a  close 
friendship  to  Dunstan  ;  and  a  friendship  as  close  bound  the 


22  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

young  abbot  to  the  mother  of  the  king,  the  wife  of  Eadward 
the  Elder,  who  seems  to  have  wielded  the  main  influence  at 
Eadred's  court.  .  .  .  Under  Eadred  his  influence  became 
yet  greater ;  he  seems  to  have  displaced  Wulfgar,  whose 
signature  through  Eadmund's  days  had  preceded  his  own, 
as  the  leading  counsellor  of  the  crown,  and  signs  first  of  all 
secular  nobles  through  the  coming  reign.   .   .   . 

Dunstan  seems  to  have  accompanied  the  king  into  North- 
umbria  after  its  subjugation,  at  least  as  far  as  Chester-le-Street, 
where  he  saw  the  remains  of  St.  Cuthbert  still  resting  in  the 
temporary  refuge  which  they  had  found  after  their  removal 
from  Lindisfarne  ;  and  it  was  probably  under  his  counsel  that 
Eadred  resolved  to  put  an  end  to  the  subject  royalty  of  the 
north  and  to  set  up  the  new  earldom  of  the  Northumbrians. 
The  abbot's  post  probably  answered  in  some  way  to  that  of 
the  later  chancellor ;  and  as  we  find  the  hoard  in  his  charge 
at  the  end  of  the  reign,  he  must  then  have  combined  with  this 
the  office  of  the  later  treasurer.  Of  the  details  of  his  political 
work,  however,  during  this  period  nothing  is  told  us.  But  of 
the  intellectual  and  literary  work  which  he  was  carrying  on 
throughout  the  reign  we  are  allowed  to  see  a  little  more.  It 
was,  in  fact,  in  these  nine  years  that  the  more  important  part 
of  his  educational  work  was  done.  If  much  of  his  time  was 
necessarily  spent  at  Winchester,  or  with  the  royal  court,  the 
bulk  of  it  seems  still  to  have  been  given  to  his  Abbey  of  Glas- 
tonbury, and  to  the  school  which  was  growing  up  within  its 
walls.  He  himself  led  the  way  in  the  work  of  teaching. 
Tradition  told  of  the  kindliness  with  which  he  won  the  love 
of  his  scholars,  the  psalms  sung  with  them  as  they  journeyed 
together,  the  vision  that  comforted  Dunstan  for  the  loss  of  one 
little  scholar  as  he  saw  the  child  borne  heavenward  in  the 
arms  of  angels.  In  the  library  of  Glastonbury  some  interesting 
memorials  of  his  scholastic  work  were  preserved  even  to  the 


DUNSTAN  23 

time  of  the  Reformation  :  b(xjks  on  the  Apocalypse,  a  collec- 
tion of  canons  drawn  from  his  Irish  teachers,  passages  tran- 
scribed from  Frank  and  Roman  law-books,  notes  on  measure 
and  numbers,  a  pamphlet  on  grammar,  a  mass  of  biblical 
quotations,  tables  for  calculating  Easter,  and  a  book  of 
Ovid's  Art  of  Love  which  jostled  oddly  with  an  luiglish 
homily  on  the  Invention  of  the  Cross.   .   .  . 

But  whatever  was  the  result  of  Dunstan's  literary  work, 
it  was  interrupted  by  Eadred's  death.  .  .  .  Dunstan  was  at 
Glastonbury,  where  the  royal  Hoard  was  then  in  keeping, 
when  news  came  in  November,  955,  that  the  king  lay  death- 
smitten  at  Frome.  The  guardians  of  the  Hoard  were  bidden 
to  bring  their  treasures  that  Eadred  might  see  them  ere  he 
died ;  but  while  the  heavy  wains  were  still  toiling  along  the 
Somersetshire  lanes,  the  death-howl  of  the  women  about  the 
court  told  the  abbot  as  he  hurried  onward  that  the  friend  he 
loved  was  dead.  He  found  the  corpse  already  forsaken,  for 
the  thegns  of  the  court  had  hurried  to  the  presence  of  the 
new  king ;  and  Dunstan  was  left  alone  to  carry  Eadred  to 
his  grave  beside  Eadmund  at  Glastonbury.  .  .  . 

[As  a  result  of  a  quarrel  at  Eadwig's  coronation  feast  Dun- 
stan was  outlawed  during  Eadwig's  reign.  He  was  recalled 
by  the  next  king,  Eadgar,  and  made  Bishop  of  Worcester 
and  of  London,  and  later  Archbishop  of  Canterbury.  He 
then  went  to  Rome  to  receive  the  pallium  from  the  Pope.] 
It  was  only  on  his  return,  in  960,  that  he  seems  to  have 
taken  the  main  direction  of  affairs.  His  policy  was  that  of  a 
cool,  cautious  churchman,  intent  not  so  much  on  outer 
aggrandizement  as  on  the  practical  business  of  internal  gov- 
ernment. While  withdrawing,  save  in  the  harmless  arrogance 
of  royal  titles,  from  an)-  effort  to  enforce  the  supremacy  of 
Wessex  over  Welshmen  or  Cumbrians,  and  practically  aban- 
doning the  bulk  of  England  itself  to  the  great  nobles,  the 


24  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

young  king  and  the  primate  devoted  themselves  to  the  en- 
forcement of  order  and  justice  in  their  own  Wessex.  In  itself 
this  union  of  archbishop  and  king  in  the  government  of  the 
realm  was  of  no  small  moment.  The  Church  and  the  mon- 
archy were  the  two  national  powers  which  had  been  raised 
to  a  height  above  all  others  through  the  strife  with  heathen- 
dom and  the  Danes  ;  and  from  the  very  outset  of  the  strife 
in  Ecgberht's  days  they  had  been  drawn  together  as  natu- 
ral allies.  But  it  was  only  at  the  close  of  the  struggle  that 
this  natural  alliance  hardened  into  something  like  complete 
unity.  .  .  .  The  rule  of  the  realm  was  in  the  hands  at  once 
of  Dunstan  and  Eadgar ;  and  king  and  primate  were  almost 
blended  together  in  the  thoughts  of  Englishmen.  So  far, 
indeed,  as  their  work  could  be  distinguished,  there  was  a 
curious  inversion  of  parts.  The  king  was  seen  devoting  him- 
self to  the  task  of  building  up  again  the  Church,  of  diffusing 
monasticism,  of  fashioning  his  realm  in  accordance  with  a 
religious  ideal.  On  the  other  hand  the  primate  was  busy  with 
the  task  of  civil  administration  ;  and  if  he  dealt  with  the 
Church  at  all,  dealt  with  it  mainly  as  a  political  power  to  be 
utilized  for  the  support  of  the  monarchy.  But,  in  fact,  it  is 
hardly  possible  to  distinguish  between  the  work  of  the  one 
and  the  work  of  the  other.  .   .   . 

As  we  have  said,  it  is  impossible,  in  the  main  acts  of  his 
reign,  to  distinguish  between  the  work  of  the  king  and  the 
work  of  the  primate.  But  it  was  to  Eadgar,  and  not  to 
Dunstan,  that  after-tradition  attributed  the  general  character 
of  his  reign.  A  chronicler,  writing  at  the  close  of  the  Norman 
rule,  tells  us  that  among  Englishmen  of  his  time  there  was 
a  strong  belief  that,  in  any  fair  judgment,  no  English  king 
of  that  or  any  other  age  could  be  compared  with  Eadgar. 
The  great  characteristic  of  his  rule  was  the  characteristic  of 
peace.    At  his  birth,  Dunstan  was  said  to  have  heard  the 


DUNSTAN  25 

voice  of  an  anj^cl  proclaiming  peace  for  England  as  long  as 
the  child  should  reign  and  Dunstan  should  live.  The  prophecy, 
if  it  was  ever  uttered,  was  certainly  fulfilled.  "  He  dwelt  in 
peace,"  says  the  chronicler,  "  the  while  that  he  lived,  God 
so  granted  it  him."  In  the  centuries  before  the  Danish  war- 
fare, there  had  been  constant  strife  either  between  the  English 
states,  into  which  Britain  was  divided,  or  between  the  tribes 
that  made  up  each  separate  state.  For  more  than  a  hundred 
and  fifty  years  the  country  had  been  a  scene  of  fierce  and 
brutal  warfare  between  Englishman  and  Dane.  The  history 
of  the  new  England  had,  in  fact,  been  a  series  of  troubles 
within,  and  then  of  troubles  without.  But  with  the  accession 
of  Eadgar  foreign  war  and  internal  dissension  seemed  alike 
to  cease.  Within,  he  "bettered  the  public  peace  more  than 
most  of  the  kings  who  were  before  him  in  man's  memory." 
His  rule  over  the  dependent  realms  and  ealdormanries  was, 
no  doubt,  the  more  tranquil  for  the  wise  limitation  of  his 
claims  to  government  or  over-lordship.  "  God  him  so  helped 
that  kings  and  earls  gladly  to  him  bowed  and  were  submis- 
sive to  that  he  willed,  and  without  war  he  ruled  all  that  himself 
would."  Such  a  peace  within  and  without  was  partly,  as  we 
have  seen,  the  result  of  other  men's  labors,  but  in  no  small 
part  it  must  have  been  the  result  of  the  wisdom  and  effort 
of  Eadgar  and  Dunstan  themselves.  The  chronicles  tell  us 
in  significant  words  that  the  king  "  earned  diligently  "  the 
peace  in  which  he  dwelt. 


26  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

Number  6 
ALFRED  THE  GREAT 

Sir  Walter  Besant.  Introduction  to  Alfred  the  Great,  pp.  11-33.   Edited 
by  Alfred  Bowker. 

It  was  in  the  year  832  ^-  seventeen  years  before  the  birth 
of  Alfred  —  that  the  Danes  first  made  their  appearance  on 
these  shores.   .   .   . 

.  .  .  They  ahvays  made  straight  for  the  nearest  monas- 
teries, which  they  sacked  :  there  were  not  many  towns  in 
Saxon  England;  but  there  were  some  —  Canterbury,  London, 
Southampton,  York  —  they  attacked  these,  seized,  plundered, 
and  left  them  in  ruins.  For  twenty  years  they  came  every 
year:  sometimes  we  hear' of  a  victory  over  them:  but  still 
they  came  again  :  there  was  never  a  victoiy  so  decisive  as  to 
keep  them  from  returning  in  ever-increasing  numbers.  Then 
they  began  to  stay  in  the  country  :  they  left  off  going  home 
in  the  autumn:  they  established  themselves  in  winter  quarters, 
first  on  Sheppey  Island,  then  on  the  Isle  of  Thanet :  then  in 
Norfolk.  Then  they  went  farther  afield.  In  a  word,  they 
overran  and  conquered  East  Anglia  :  then  the  Kingdom  of 
Northumbria  :  then  that  of  Mercia  :  then  the  united  King- 
doms of  Wessex  and  Kent.  It  was  at  this  crisis,  when  all 
the  power  of  the  Danes  was  brought  to  bear  against  Wessex 
and  Kent,  Alfred  succeeded  to  the  throne.   .   .   . 

.  .  .  The  Danes  had  seized  Chippenham,  in  Wiltshire,  and 
made  that  place  their  stronghold  and  headquarters.  From 
Chippenham  they  sent  out  their  light  troops,  moving  rapidly 
here  and  there,  devastating  and  murdering.  For  nine  long 
years,  growing  every  year  weaker,  Alfred  fought  them  :  in 
one  year  he  fought  nine  battles.    At  the  end  of  that  time  he 


ALFRED  THE  GREAT  27 

found  himself  deserted,  save  ior  a  few  faithful  followers  :  his 
country  prostrate  :  everything  in  the  hands  of  the  enemy  :  his 
cause  lost,  and  apparently  no  loop-hole  or  glimmer  of  hope  left 
of  recovery.  No  darker  or  more  gloomy  time  ever  fell  upon 
tills  country.  Everywhere  the  churches  and  the  monasteries 
were  pillaged  and  destroyed.  All  those — bishops,  priests, 
monks,  and  nuns  —  who  could  get  away  had  fled,  carrying 
with  them  such  of  their  treasures  as  they  could  convey.  The 
towns  were  in  ruins  :  the  farms  were  deserted  :  the  people 
had  lost  hope  and  heart :  they  bowed  their  heads  and  entered 
into  slavery  :  their  religion  was  destroyed  with  the  flight  or 
the  murder  of  their  priests.  Their  arts,  their  learning,  their 
civilisation,  all  that  they  had  once  possessed,  were  destroyed 
in  those  nine  years'  warfare  :  destroyed  and  gone  —  it  seemed 
for  ever.  And  the  king,  with  his  wife  and  her  sister,  and  his 
children,  and  the  few  who  still  remained  with  him,  had  taken 
refuge  on  a  litde  hill  rising  out  of  a  broad  marsh,  whither 
the  enemy  could  not  follow  him.   .  .  . 

Alfred  remained  inactive  during  the  whole  long  winter. 
It  was  the  rule  of  the  old  Kriegs  Spiel,  the  war  game  of  that 
time,  that  the  armies  should  not  go  forth  to  fight  in  winter. 
The  men  would  have  refused  to  go  out  in  the  cold  season. 
In  fact,  they  could  not.  The  country  was  covered  with  un- 
cleared forests  :  the  roads  in  winter  were  deep  tracks  of  mud  : 
it  was  impossible  for  the  men  to  sleep  on  the  cold,  wet  ground. 
The  delay  suited  Alfred  :  he  wanted  time  to  organise  a  rising 
in  force  :  he  sent  messengers  to  the  Somersetshire  people, 
among  whom,  in  winter  quarters,  were  l\ing  few  or  none 
of  the  Danish  conquerors  :  he  bade  them  make  ready  for 
the  spring  :  he  ordered  those  of  the  thanes  who  were  still  left 
to  come  to  him  at  Athelney  :  and  in  May,  when  the  spring 
arrived,  Alfred  appeared  once  more  as  one  risen  from  the 
dead  :   once   more   he   raised   the   W'essex   standard  of  the 


28  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH   HISTORY 

Golden  Dragon :  once  more  the  people,  taking  renewed 
courage,  flocked  together :  as  he  marched  along  they  joined 
him,  the  fugitives  from  the  woods  and  those  who  had  been 
made  slaves  in  their  own  farms,  and  swelled  his  force. 

What  follows  is  like  a  dream.  Or  it  is  like  the  uprising 
of  the  F"rench  under  Joan  of  Arc.  There  had  been  nine 
years  of  continuous  defeat.  The  people  had  lost  heart :  they 
had  apparently  given  in.  Yet,  on  the  reappearance  of  their 
king,  they  sprang  to  arms  once  more  :  they  followed  him 
with  one  consent,  and  on  the  first  encounter  with  the  Danes 
they  inflicted  upon  them  a  defeat  so  crushing  that  they  never 
rallied  again.  In  one  battle,  on  one  field,  the  country  was 
recovered.  In  a  single  fortnight  after  this  battle  the  Danes 
were  turned  out  of  Wessex.  Alfred  had  recovered  the  whole 
of  his  own  country,  and  acquired  in  addition  a  large  part  of 
Mercia.   .   .   . 

Alfred  had  got  back  his  kingdom.  It  remained  for  him  to 
recover  it  in  a  fuller  and  a  larger  sense  :  to  restore  its  former 
prosperity  and  its  ancient  strength. 

He  began  by  recognising  the  separate  rights  of  the  Mer- 
cians. He  would  not  call  himself  King  of  Mercia.  He  placed 
his  son-in-law  Ethelred  as  Earl  of  Mercia,  and  because  Lon- 
don was  at  that  time  considered  a  Mercian  city,  Ethelred 
took  up  his  residence  there  as  soon  as  the  Danes  had  gone 
out.  The  condition  of  London  was  as  desolate  and  as  ruinous 
as  that  of  the  whole  country.  The  walls  were  falling  down  : 
there  was  no  trade  :  there  were  no  ships  in  the  river :  no 
merchandise  on  the  wharves  :  there  were  no  people  in  the 
streets,  save  the  Danish  soldiers  and  the  slaves  who  worked 
for  them.  Alfred  restored  the  walls :  rebuilt  the  gates : 
brought  back  trade  and  merchants  :  repaired  the  Bridge,  and 
made  London  once  more  the  most  important  city  of  his  king- 
dom :   its  strongest   defence  :   its  most  valuable   possession. 


ALFRED  THE  T.REAT  29 

This  was,  in  fact,  the  third  foundation  of  London.  If  Alfred 
had  failed  to  understand  the  importance  of  London  —  that 
great  port,  hai3i)il\'  placed,  not  on  the  coast  open  to  attack, 
but  a  long  way  up  a  tidal  riwr,  in  the  very  heart  of  the 
country  —  a  place  easy  of  access  from  every  part  of  the 
kingdom  —  a  port  convenient  for  every  kind  of  trade,  whether 
from  the  Baltic  or  the  Mediterranean  —  the  whole  of  the 
commercial  history  of  England  would  have  been  changed, 
the  island  might  have  remained  what  it  had  been  for  centuries 
before  the  Roman  Conquest,  a  place  which  exported  iron, 
tin,  skins,  wool,  and  slaves,  and  imported  for  the  most  part 
weapons  to  kill  each  other  with.  .   .  . 

Alfred,  I  repeat,  gave  us  London.  This  was  a  great  service 
which  he  rendered  to  the  safety  of  the  country.  But  there  was 
still  a  greater  service.  The  Saxon  had  quite  forgotten  the 
seamanship  in  which  he  had  formerly  known  no  master  and 
no  equal.  Alfred  saw  that  for  the  sake  of  safety  there  must 
be  a  first  line  of  defence  before  the  coast  could  be  reached. 
England  could  only  be  invaded  in  ships,  and  by  those  who 
had  the  command  of  the  seas.  Therefore,  he  created  a 
navy :  he  built  ships  longer,  heavier,  swifter  than  those  of 
the  Danes,  and  he  sent  these  ships  out  to  meet  the  Danes 
on  what  they  supposed  to  be  their  own  element.  They  went 
out :  they  met  the  Danes  :  they  defeated  them  :  and  before 
long  the  Saxons  had  afloat  a  fleet  of  a  hundred  ships  to  hold 
the  mastery  of  the  Channel.  The  history  of  the  English  navy 
is  chequered  :  there  have  been  periods  when  its  pretensions 
were  low  and  its  achievements  humble  :  but  since  the  days 
of  Alfred  the  conviction  has  never  been  lost  that  the  safety 
of  England  lies  in  her  command  of  the  sea.  Fortresses  and 
walled  cities  are  useful  :  it  is  a  very  great  achievement  to 
have  given  them  to  the  country  :  London  alone,  restored  by 
Alfred,   was   the   nation's  stronghold,   the   nation's   treasure 


'>0  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

house,  a  city  full  of  wealth,  filled  with  valiant  citizens,  uncon- 
quered  and  defiant :  that  was  a  very  great  gift  to  the  country  : 
but  it  was  a  greater  achievement  still  to  have  gi\'en  to  the 
country  a  fleet  which  was  ready  to  meet  the  enemy  before 
they  had  time  to  land,  and  to  give  them  most  excellent 
reasons  why  they  should  not  land  :  to  make  the  people  under- 
stand that  above  all  things,  and  before  all,  it  was  necessary 
for  all  time  to  keep  the  mastery  of  the  seas. 

Remember,  therefore,  that  Alfred,  thus,  gave  us  the  com- 
mand of  the  seas. 

As  Rudyard  Kipling,  our  patriot  poet,  says  : 

We  have  fed  our  seas  for  a  thousand  years, 

And  she  calls  us,  still  unfed, 
Though  there  's  never  a  wave  of  all  her  waves 

But  marks  our  English  dead. 

"Never  a  wave  of  all  her  waves" — and  it  was  Alfred 
who  first  sent  out  the  English  blood  to  redden  those  waves 
in  defence  of  hearth  and  home.  .   .   . 

We  have  considered  Alfred  as  a  captain,  a  conqueror,  and 
the  founder  of  our  navy.  We  will  now  consider  him  in  the 
capacity  of  king,  administrator,  and  law-giver.   .   .   . 

,  .  .  He  must  not  be  considered  as  a  modern  king  —  the 
modern  king  reigns  while  the  people  rule  :  he  was  the  king 
who  ruled  :  his  will  ruled  the  land  :  he  had  his  Parliament : 
his  Meeting  of  the  Wise  :  but  his  will  ruled  them  :  he  ap- 
pointed his  earls  or  aldermen :  his  will  ruled  them :  he  had  his 
bishops  :  his  will  ruled  them.  From  the  time  when  he  began 
to  address  himself  to  the  organisation  of  a  strong  nation  — 
that  is  to  say,  from  the  time  when  the  Dane  was  baptized, 
his  will  ruled  supreme.  No  law  existed  then  to  limit  the 
king's  prerogative.  The  king  was  imperator,  commander  of 
the  army,  and  every  man  in  the  country  was  his  soldier. 


ALFRED  TTTK  ORF.AT  31 

Among  the  monuments  of  his  reign  there  stands  out  pre- 
eminent his  code  of  laws.  He  did  not,  I  say,  originate  or 
invent  his  code.  He  simply  took  the  old  code  and  rewrote 
it,  with  additions  and  alterations  to  suit  the  altered  conditions 
of  the  time.  He  understood,  in  fact,  the  great  truth,  which 
law-makers  hardl\-  ever  grasp,  that  successful  institutions 
must  be  the  outcome  of  national  character.  Now,  the  laws 
and  customs  of  these  nations  —  Saxons,  Angles,  and  Jutes 
—  were  similar,  but  there  were  differences.  They  had  grown 
with  the  people,  and  were  the  outcome  of  the  national  char- 
acter. Alfred  took  over  as  the  foundation  of  his  work  for 
Wessex  the  code  compiled  for  the  West  Saxons  by  his  an- 
cestor. King  Ina  :  for  Mercia,  that  compiled  by  Offa,  King 
of  Mercia  :  for  the  Jutes,  that  compiled  by  Ethelbert,  King 
of  Kent.  In  his  work  two  main  principles  guided  the  law- 
giver :  first,  that  justice  should  be  provided  for  every  one, 
high  and  low,  rich  and  poor  :  next,  that  the  Christian  religion 
should  be  recognised  as  containing  the  Law  of  God  :  which 
must  be  the  basis  of  all  laws.  Both  these  principles  were 
especially  necessary  to  be  observed  at  this  time.  The  devas- 
tation of  the  long  wars  had  caused  justice  to  be  neglected  : 
and  the  destruction  of  the  churches,  and  the  murder  or 
flight  of  the  clergy,  had  caused  the  people  to  relapse  into 
their  old  superstitions. 

King  Alfred  then  boldly  began  his  code  by  reciting  the  Laws 
of  God.  His  opening  words  were:  "Thus  saith  the  Lord, 
T  am  the  Lord  thy  God.'  "  That  is  his  keynote.  The  laws 
of  a  people  must  conform  with  the  Laws  of  God.  If  they  are 
contrary  to  the  spirit  of  these  laws  they  cannot  be  righteous 
laws.  In  order  that  every  one  might  himself  compare  his 
laws  with  the  Laws  of  God,  he  prefaced  his  laws  first  by  the 
Ten  Commandments  ;  after  this  he  quoted  at  length  certain 
chapters  of  the  Mosaic  Law.    These  chapters  he  followed  by 


32  READINGS   IX   ENGLISH   HISTORY 

the  short  epistle  in  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles  concerning  what 
should  be  expected  and  demanded  of  Christians.  Finally, 
Alfred  adds  the  precept  from  St.  Matthew,  "'  Whatsoever  ye 
would  that  men  should  do  to  you,  do  ye  even  so  to  them."  .  .  . 
This  firm  determination  to  link  the  Divine  Law  and  the 
Human  Law  :  this  firm  reliance  on  the  Divine  Law  as  the 
foundation  of  all  law  :  is  to  me  the  most  characteristic  point 
in  the  whole  of  Alfred's  work.  The  view  —  the  intention  — 
the  purpose  of  King  Alfred  are  summed  up,  without  inten- 
tion, by  the  poet  whom  I  have  already  quoted.  The  following 
words  of  Rudyard  Kipling  might  be  the  very  words  of  Alfred : 
they  breathe  his  very  spirit  —  they  might  be,  I  say,  the  very 
words  spoken  by  Alfred  : 

Keep  ye  the  law  :  be  swift  in  all  obedience  — 

Clear  the  land  of  evil :   drive  the  road  and  bridge  the  ford. 

Make  ye  sure  to  each  his  own 

That  he  reap  where  he  hath  sown : 
By  the  Peace  among  our  Peoples  let  men  know  we  serve  the  Lord ! 

Alfred  endeavoured  to  rebuild  the  monasteries.  He  then 
made  the  discovery  that  the  old  passion  for  the  monastic  life 
was  gone  :  he  could  get  no  one  to  go  into  them.  Forty 
years  of  a  life  and  death  struggle  had  killed  the  desire  for 
the  cloister :  the  people  had  learned  to  love  action  better 
than  seclusion  —  their  ideal  was  now  the  soldier,  not  the 
monk.   .  .  . 

His  chief  design  in  rebuilding  the  monasteries  was  to  re- 
store the  schools.  The  country  had  fallen  so  low  in  learning 
that  there  was  hardly  a  single  priest  who  could  translate  the 
Church  Ser\dce  into  Saxon,  or  could  understand  the  words  he 
sang.  Alfred  sent  abroad  for  scholars  :  he  made  his  Reli- 
gious House  not  only  a  place  for  the  retreat  of  pious  men 
and  women,  but  also  the  home  —  the  only  possible  home  — 
of  learning,  and  the  seat  of  schools.    It  is  long  since  we  have 


ALFRED    I'lIK  GREAT  33 

regarded  a  monastery  as  a  seat  of  learning,  or  the  proper  place 
for  a  school.  Go  back  to  Alfred's  time  and  consider  what 
a  monastery  meant  in  a  land  still  full  of  violence  :  in  which 
morals  had  been  lost :  justice  trampled  down  :  learning  de- 
stroyed :  no  schools  or  teachers  left :  the  monastery  stood  as  an 
example  and  a  reminder  of  self-restraint :  peace  :  and  order  : 
a  life  of  industry^  and  such  works  as  the  most  ignorant  must 
acknowledge  to  be  good  :  where  the  poor  and  the  sick  were 
received  and  cared  for  :  the  young  were  taught :  and  the  old 
sheltered.  It  was  the  Life  which  the  monastery  Rule  pro- 
fessed ;  the  aim  rather  than  any  lower  standards  accepted  by 
the  monks  :  which  made  a  monastery  in  that  age  like  a  bea- 
con steadily  and  brightly  burning,  so  that  the  people  had  al- 
ways before  their  eyes  a  reminder  of  the  self-governed  life. 
Most  of  us  would  be  very  unwilling  to  see  the  monaster}^  again 
become  a  necessity  of  the  national  life  :  yet  we  must  admit 
that  in  the  ninth  century  Alfred  had  no  more  powerful  weapon 
for  the  maintenance  of  a  religious  standard  than  the  monastery. 

In  the  cause  of  education,  indeed,  Alfred  was  before  his 
age,  and  even  before  our  age.  He  desired  universal  education. 
At  his  Court  he  provided  instructors  for  his  children  and  the 
children  of  the  nobles.  They  learned  to  read  and  write,  they 
studied  their  own  language  and  its  poetry :  they  learned 
Latin:  and  they  learned  what  were  called  the  "liberal  sci- 
ences," among  them  the  art  of  music.  But  he  thought  also 
of  the  poorer  class.  "  My  desire,"  he  says,  "  is  that  all  the 
freeborn  youths  of  my  people  may  persevere  in  learning  until 
they  can  perfectly  read  the  English  Scriptures."  Unhappily 
he  was  unable  to  carry  out  this  wish.  Only  in  our  own  days 
has  been  at  last  attempted  the  dream  of  the  Saxon  King  — 
the  extension  of  education  to  the  whole  people. 

One  more  aspect  of  Alfred's  foresight.  He  endeavoured 
to  remove  the  separation  of  his  island  from  the  rest  of  the 


34 


READINGS  IN  ENGLISH   HISTORY 


world  :  he  connected  his  people  with  the  civilisation  of  West- 
ern Europe  by  encouraging  scholars  and  men  of  learning, 
workers  in  gold,  and  craftsmen  of  all  kinds,  to  come  over  : 
he  created  commercial  relations  with  foreign  countries  :  a 
merchant  who  made  three  voyages  to  the  Mediterranean  he 
ennobled  :  he  sent  an  embassy  every  year  to  Rome  :  he  sent 
an  embassy  as  far  as  India :  he  brought  to  bear  upon  the 
somewhat  sluggish  minds  of  his  people  the  imagination  and 
the  curiosity  which  would  hereafter  engender  a  spirit  of  en- 
terprise to  which  no  other  nation  can  offer  a  parallel. 

It  was  partly  with  this  view  that  he  strongly  enforced  the 
connection  with  Rome.  One  bond  of  union  the  nations  of 
the  West  should  have  —  a  common  Faith  :  and  that  defined 
and  interpreted  for  them  by  the  same  authority.  Had  it  not 
been  for  that  central  authority  the  nations  would  have  been 
divided,  rather  than  drawn  towards  each  other,  by  a  Christi- 
anity split  up  into  at  least  as  many  sects  as  there  were  lan- 
guages. Imagine  the  evil,  in  an  ignorant  time,  of  fifty  nations, 
each  swearing  by  its  own  creed,  and  every  creed  different. 
From  this  danger  Alfred  kept  his  country  free. 

The  last,  not  the  least,  of  his  achievements  is  that  to  Alfred 
we  owe  the  foundations  of  our  literature  :  the  most  noble  lit- 
erature that  the  world  has  ever  seen.  He  collected  and  pre- 
served the  poetry  based  on  the  traditions  and  legends  brought 
from  the  German  Forests.  He  himself  delighted  to  hear  and 
to  repeat  these  legends  and  traditions  :  the  deeds  of  the  mighty 
warriors  who  fought  with  monsters,  dragons,  wild  boars,  and 
huge  serpents.  He  made  his  children  learn  their  songs :  he  had 
them  sung  in  his  Court.  The  tradition  goes  that  he  could  him- 
self sing  them  to  the  music  of  his  own  harp.  This  wild  and 
spontaneous  poetry  which  Alfred  preserved  is  the  beginning 
of  our  own  noble  choir  of  poets.  In  other  words,  the  founda- 
tion of  that  stately  Palace  of  Literature,  built  up  by  our  poets 


ALFRED  THE  GREAT  35 

and  writers  for  the  admiration  and  instruction  and  consolation 
of  mankind,  was  laid  by  Alfred.  Well,  but  he  did  more  than 
collect  the  poetry,  he  began  the  prose.  Before  Alfred  there 
was  no  Anglo-Saxon  prose.  ... 

It  is  not  the  part  of  this  Introduction  to  dwell  upon  the 
whole  of  Alfred's  literary  work.  It  is  enough  if  we  recognise 
that  he  introduced  education  and  restored  learning.  In  the 
course  of  time,  innumerable  books  were  attributed  to  him  :  it 
is  said  that  he  translated  the  Psalms.  A  book  of  proverbs 
and  sayings  is  attributed  to  him  —  each  one  begins  with  the 
words  ""Thus  said  Alfred."  The  Anglo-Saxon  Chronicle 
and  contemporary  record  of  events  is  said  to  have  been  com- 
menced by  him.  And  since  it  is  certain  from  the  life  of  the 
king  by  one  of  his  own  Court  that  he  was  regarded  by  all 
classes  of  his  people  with  the  utmost  reverence  and  respect, 
I  think  it  is  extremely  likely  that  some  of  his  people  listened 
and  took  down  in  writing  the  sayings  of  the  king,  so  that  the 
book  of  Alfred's  sayings  may  be  as  authentic  as  the  sayings 
of  Dr.  Johnson,  recorded  by  his  admirer  Boswell. 

There  is  next  to  be  observed  the  permanence  of  Alfred's  in- 
stitutions. They  do  not  perish,  but  remain.  His  Witenagemot 
—  Meeting  of  the  Wise  —  is  our  Parliament  —  it  has  devel- 
oped into  our  many  Parliaments.  His  order  of  King,  Thane, 
and  Freeman  is  our  order  of  King,  Lords,  and  Commons. 
His  theory  of  education  was  carried  out  in  some  of  the  towns, 
and  in  all  the  monasteries  and  cathedrals  :  there  are  schools 
still  existing  which  owe  their  origin  to  a  period  before  the 
Norman  Conquest.  His  foundation  of  all  law  upon  the  Laws 
of  God  remains  our  own  :  his  liberties  are  our  liberties  :  his 
navy  is  the  ancestor  of  our  navy :  the  literature  which  he 
planted  has  grown  into  a  goodly  tree  —  the  Monarch  of  the 
Forest :  the  foreign  trade  that  he  began  is  the  forerunner  of 
our  foreign  trade  :  it  would  seem  as  if  there  was  hardly  any 


36  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

point  in  which  we  have  reason  to  be  grateful  or  proud  which 
was  not  foreseen  by  this  wise  king. 

To  look  for  the  secret  of  his  wisdom  is  like  looking  for 
the  secret  of  making  a  great  poem  or  writing  a  great  play  : 
it  may  be  arrived  at  and  described,  but  it  is  not  therefore  the 
easier  of  imitation.  Alfred's  secret  is  quite  simple.  His  work 
tvas  pcnnanciit  because  it  zvas  established  on  the  Jiational 
character.  It  was  in  order  to  make  this  point  clear  that  I 
dwelt  at  length  on  the  character  of  the  people  over  whom 
Alfred  ruled.  He  knew  their  character,  and  by  instinct,  which 
we  call  genius,  he  gave  his  people  the  laws  and  the  education, 
and  the  power  of  development  for  which  they  were  fitted. 
No  other  laws,  no  other  kind  of  government,  will  enable  a  peo- 
ple to  prosper  except  those  laws  to  which  they  have  grown 
and  are  adapted.  Only  those  institutions,  I  repeat,  are  per- 
manent which  are  based  on  the  national  character.  That  was 
the  secret  of  King  Alfred  the  law-giver. 

N timber  y 
THE  CORONATION  OF  WILLIAM  THE  NORMAN 

E.  A.  Freeman.    The  I/isi07y  of  the  jVonna>i  Conquest  of  England,  Vol.  Ill, 
PP-  557-56^- 

The  Christmas  morn  ^  at  last  came  ;  and  once  more,  as  on 
the  day  of  the  Epiphany,^  a  King-elect  entered  the  portals  of 
the  West  Minster  to  receive  his  Crown.  But  now,  unlike  the 
day  of  the  Epiphany,  the  approach  to  the  church  was  kept  by 
a  guard  of  Norman  horsemen.  Otherwise  all  was  peaceful. 
Within  the  church  all  was  in  readiness  ;  a  new  crown,  rich 
with  gems,  was  ready  for  the  ceremony  ;  a  crowd  of  spectators 
of  both  nations  filled  the  minster.   The  great  procession  then 

1  The  day  set  for  W'illiam's  coronation.         2  xhe  day  of  Harold's  coronation. 


CORONATION  OF  WILLIAM  THE  NORMAN      37 

swept  on.  A  crowd  of  dergy  bearing  crosses  marched  first ; 
then  followed  the  Bish()[)s  ;  lastly,  surrounded  by  the  chief 
men  of  his  own  land  and  of  his  new  Kingdom,  came  the  re- 
nowned Duke  himself,  with  Ealdred  and  Stigand  on  cither 
side  of  him.  Amid  the  shouts  of  the  people,  William  the 
Conqueror  passed  on  to  the  royal  seat  before  the  high  altar, 
there  to  go  through  the  same  solemn  rites  which  had  so  lately 
been  gone  through  on  the  same  spot  by  his  fallen  rival.  The 
Te  Deum  which  had  been  sung  over  Harold  was  now  again 
sung  over  William.  And  now  again,  in  ancient  form,  the 
crowd  that  thronged  the  minster  was  asked  whether  they 
would  that  the  candidate  who  stood  before  them  should  be 
crowned  King  over  the  land.  But  now  a  new  thing,  unknown 
to  the  coronation  of  Eadward  or  of  Harold,  had  to  mark  the 
coronation  of  William.  A  King  was  to  be  crowned  who  spake 
not  our  ancient  tongue,  and,  with  him,  many  who  knew  not 
the  speech  of  England  stood  there  to  behold  the  rite.  It  was 
therefore  not  enough  for  Ealdred  to  demand  in  his  native 
tongue  whether  the  assembled  crowd  consented  to  the  con- 
secration of  the  Duke  of  the  Normans.  The  question  had  to 
be  put  a  second  time  in  French  by  (ieoffrey,  Bishop  of  Cou- 
tances,  .  .  .  The  assent  of  the  assembled  multitude  of  both 
nations  was  given  in  ancient  form.  The  voices  which  on  the 
Epiphany  had  shouted  "  Yea,  yea.  King  Harold,"  shouted  at 
Christmas  with  equal  apparent  zeal,  "  Yea,  yea.  King  William." 
Men's  hearts  had  not  changed,  but  they  had  learned,  through 
the  events  of  that  awful  year,  to  submit  as  cheerfully  as  might 
be  to  the  doom  which  could  not  be  escaped.  The  shout  rang 
loud  through  the  minster  ;  it  reached  the  ears  of  the  Norman 
horsemen  who  kept  watch  around  the  building.  They  had 
doubtless  never  before  heard  the  might)-  voice  of  an  assem- 
bled people.  They  deemed,  or  professed  to  deem,  that  some 
evil  was  being  done  to  the  newly  chosen  sovereign.    Instead 


c>8  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

however  of  rushing  in  to  his  help,  they  hastened,  with  the 
strange  instinct  of  their  nation,  to  set  fire  to  the  buildings 
around  the  minster.  At  once  all  was  confusion  ;  the  glare 
was  seen,  the  noise  v/as  heard,  within  the  walls  of  the  church. 
Men  and  women  of  all  ranks  rushed  forth  to  quench  the  flames 
or  to  save  their  goods,  some,  it  is  said,  to  seek  for  their  chance 
of  plunder  in  such  a  scene  of  terror.  The  King-elect,  with  the 
officiating  Prelates  and  clergy  and  the  monks  of  the  Abbey, 
alone  remained  before  the  altar.  They  trembled,  and  perhaps 
for  the  first  and  the  last  time  in  his  life,  William  trembled 
also.  His  heart  had  never  failed  him  either  in  council  or  in 
batde,  but  here  was  a  scene  the  like  of  which  William  him- 
self was  not  prepared  to  brave.  But  the  rite  went  on  ;  the 
trembling  Duke  took  the  oaths  of  an  English  King,  the  oaths 
to  do  justice  and  mercy  to  all  within  his  realm,  and  a  special 
oath,  devised  seemingly  to  meet  the  case  of  a  foreign  King, 
an  oath  that,  if  his  people  proved  loyal  to  him,  he  would  rule 
them  as  well  as  the  best  of  the  Kings  who  had  gone  before 
him.  The  prayers  and  litanies  and  hymns  went  on  ;  the  rite, 
hurried  and  maimed  of  its  splendour,  lacked  nothing  of  sacra- 
mental virtue  or  of  ecclesiastical  significance.  All  was  done 
in  order ;  while  the  flames  were  raging  around,  amid  the  up- 
roar and  the  shouts  which  surrounded  the  holy  place,  Ealdred 
could  still  nerve  himself  to  pour  the  holy  oil  upon  the  royal 
head,  to  place  the  rod  and  the  sceptre  in  the  royal  hands.  In 
the  presence  of  that  small  band  of  monks  and  Bishops  the 
great  rite  was  brought  to  its  close,  and  the  royal  diadem  with 
all  its  gleaming  gems  rested  firmly  on  the  brow  of  William, 
King  of  the  English. 

The  work  of  the  Conquest  was  now  formally  completed ; 
the  Conqueror  sat  in  the  royal  seat  of  England.  He  had 
claimed  the  Crown  of  his  kinsman  ;  he  had  set  forth  his 
claim  in  the  ears  of  Europe  ;  he  had  maintained  it  on  the  field 


RESULTS  OF  THE  NORMAN  CONQUEST        39 

of  battle,  and  now  it  had  been  formally  acknowledged  by  the 
nation  over  which  he  sought  to  rule.  As  far  as  words  and 
outward  rites  went,  nothing  was  now  wanting ;  William  was 
King,  chosen,  crowned,  and  anointed.  But  how  far  he  still 
was  from  being  in  truth  ruler  over  the  whole  land,  the  tale 
which  is  yet  in  store  will  set  before  us.  We  have  yet  to  see 
how  gradually  William  won,  how  sternly  yet  how  wisely,  he 
ruled,  the  land  which  he  had  conquered.  We  have  to  see 
how,  one  by  one,  the  native  chiefs  of  England  were  subdued, 
won  over,  or  cut  off,  and  how  the  highest  offices  and  the  rich- 
est lands  of  England  were  parted  out  among  strangers.  We 
have  to  see  the  Conqueror  in  all  his  might ;  we  have  to  see 
him  too  in  those  later  and  gloomier  years,  when  home-bred 
sorrows  gathered  thickly  around  him,  and  when  victory  at  last 
ceased  to  wait  upon  his  banners.  At  last,  by  a  cycle  as  strange 
as  any  in  the  whole  range  of  histor}',  we  shall  follow  him  to 
his  burial  as  we  have  followed  him  to  his  crowning,  and  we 
shall  see  the  body  of  the  Conqueror  lowered  to  his  grave,  in 
the  land  of  his  birth  and  in  the  minster  of  his  own  rearing, 
amid  a  scene  as  wild  and  awful  as  that  of  the  day  which 
witnessed  his  investiture  with  the  royalty  of  England. 

Number  S 
THE  RESULTS  OE  THE  NORMAN  CONQUEST 

E.  A.  Freeman.    A  Short  History  of  the  Norman  Conquest,  pp.  134-147. 

1.  General  Results  of  the  Conquest.  We  must  carefully 
distinguish  the  immediate  effects  of  the  Norman  Conquest, 
the  changes  which  it  made  at  the  moment,  from  its  lasting 
results  which  have  left  their  mark  on  all  the  times  which  have 
come  after.  .  .  .  And  we  shall  find  that  the  Norman  Con- 
quest did  not  very  greatly  bring  in  things  which  were  quite 


40  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

new,  but  rather  strengthened  and  hastened  tendencies  which 
were  already  at  work.  We  shall  see  many  examples  of  this 
as  we  go  on. 

2.  Intercourse  with  Other  Lands.  One  very  clear  case  of 
this  rule  is  the  way  in  which  England  now  began  to  have 
much  more  to  do  with  other  lands  than  she  had  had  before. 
But  this  was  only  strengthening  a  tendency  which  was  already 
at  work.  From  the  reign  of  yEthelred  onwards  England  was 
beginning  to  have  more  and  more  to  do  with  the  mainland. 
Or  rather,  whereas  England  had  before  had  to  do,  whether 
in  war  or  in  peace,  almost  wholly  with  the  kindred  lands  of 
Scandinavia,  Germany,  and  Flanders,  she  now  began  to  have 
much  to  do  with  the  Latin-speaking  people,  first  in  Normandy, 
then  in  France  itself.  The  great  beginning  of  this  was,  as 
we  have  already  said,  the  marriage  of  ^thelred  and  Emma. 
Then  came  the  reign  of  their  son  Edward,  with  his  foreign 
ways  and  foreign  favourites.  All  this  in  some  sort  made 
things  ready  for  the  fuller  introduction  of  foreigners  and  for- 
eign ways  at  the  Conquest.  When  the  same  prince  reigned 
over  England  and  Normandy,  and  when  in  after  times  the 
same  prince  reigned,  not  only  over  England  and  Normandy, 
but  over  other  large  parts  of  Gaul,  men  went  backwards  and 
forwards  freely  from  one  land  to  another.  ...  In  every 
way,  in  short,  Britain  ceased  to  be  a  world  of  its  own  ;  Eng- 
land, and  Scotland  too,  became  part  of  the  general  world  of 
Western  Europe. 

3.  Effects  of  the  Conquest  on  the  Church.  In  nothing  did 
this  come  out  more  strongly  than  in  the  affairs  of  the  Church. 
The  English  Church  was,  more  strictly  than  any  other,  the 
child  of  the  Church  of  Rome,  and  she  had  always  kept  a 
strong  reverence  for  her  parent.  But  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land had  always  held  a  greater  independence  than  the  other 
churches  of  the  West,  and  the  kings  and  assemblies  of  the 


RESULTS  OF  THE  NORMAN  CONQl^EST         41 

nation  had  never  given  up  ihcir  power  in  ecclesiastical  mat- 
ters. Church  and  State  were  one.  But  from  the  time  of  the 
Conquest,  the  Popes  got  more  and  more  power,  as  was  not 
wonderful  when  the  Conqueror  himself  had  asked  the  Pope 
to  judge  between  him  and  Harold.  Gradually  all  the  new 
notions  spread  in  England  ;  the  Popes  encroached  more  and 
more,  and  laws  after  laws  had  to  be  made  to  restrain  them, 
till  the  time  came  when  we  threw  off  the  Pope's  authority 
altogether.  The  affairs  of  Church  and  State  got  more  and 
more  distinct ;  the  clergy  began  to  claim  to  be  free  from  all 
secular  jurisdiction  and  to  be  tried  only  in  the  ecclesiastical 
courts ;  the  marriage  of  the  clergy  too  was  more  and  more 
strictly  forbidden.  All  this  was  the  direct  result  of  the  Nor- 
man Conquest.   .   .   . 

4.  Foreign  Wars.  It  was  also  owing  to  the  Norman  Con- 
quest that  l^Lngland  began  to  be  largely  entangled  in  conti- 
nental wars.  ...  As  long  as  Normandy  was  a  separate  state 
lying  between  England  and  France,  England  and  France  could 
hardly  have  any  grounds  of  quarrel.  But  when  England  and 
Normandy  had  one  prince,  England  got  entangled  in  the 
quarrels  between  Normandy  and  France.  England  and  France 
became  rival  powers,  and  the  rivalry  went  on  for  ages  after 
Normandy  had  been  conquered  by  France.  Then  too  both 
England  and  Normandy  passed  to  princes  who  had  other 
great  possessions  in  Gaul,  and  the  chief  of  these,  the  duchy 
of  Aquitaine,  was  kept  by  the  English  kings  long  after  the 
loss  of  Normandy.  Thus,  through  the  Norman  Conquest, 
England  became  a  continental  power,  mixed  up  with  conti- 
nental wars  and  politics,  and  above  all,  engaged  in  a  long 
rivalry  with  France. 

5.  Effects  on  the  Kingly  Power.  One  chief  result  of  the 
Norman  Conquest  was  great!)'  to  strengthen  the  power  of  the 
kings.    The  Norman  kings  kept  all  the  powers,  rights,  and 


42  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

revenues  which  the  Enghsh  kings  had  had,  and  they  added 
some  new  ones.  A  king  may  be  looked  on  in  two  ways.  He 
may  either  be  looked  on  as  the  head  of  the  state,  of  which 
other  men  are  members,  or  else  as  the  chief  lord,  with  the 
chief  men  of  the  land  for  his  men,  holding  their  lands  of  him. 
Both  these  notions  of  kingship  were  known  in  Europe  ;  both 
were  known  in  England  ;  but  William  the  Conqueror  knew 
how  to  use  both  to  the  strengthening  of  the  kingly  power. 
Where  the  king  is  merely  the  lord  of  the  chief  men,  the 
kingdom  is  likely  to  split  up  into  separate  principalities,  as 
happened  both  in  Germany  and  in  Gaul.  William  took  care 
that  this  should  not  happen  in  England  by  making  his  great 
law  which  made  every  man  the  man  of  the  king.  But  when 
this  point  was  once  secured,  it  added  greatly  to  the  king's 
power  that  he  should  be  personal  lord  as  well  as  chief  of  the 
state,  and  that  all  men  should  hold  their  lands  of  him.  The 
Norman  kings  were  thus  able  to  levy  the  old  taxes  as  heads 
of  the  state,  and  also  to  raise  money  in  various  ways  off  the 
lands  which  were  held  of  them.  They  could,  like  the  old 
kings,  call  the  whole  nation  to  war,  and  they  could  further 
call  on  the  men  who  held  lands  of  them  either  to  do  military 
service  in  their  own  persons  or  to  pay  money  to  be  let  off. 
Thus  the  king  could  have  at  pleasure  either  a  national  army, 
or  2i  feiLcial  army,  that  is  an  army  of  ^  men  who  did  military 
service  for  \ki€v!:  fiefs,  or  lastly  an  army  of  hired  mercenaries. 
And  the  kings  made  use  of  all  three  as  suited  them.  Another 
thing  also  happened.  In  the  older  notion,  kingship  was  an 
office,  the  highest  office,  an  office  bestowed  by  the  nation, 
though  commonly  bestowed  on  the  descendants  of  former 
kings.  But  now  kingship  came  to  be  looked  on  more  and 
more  as  a  possession,  and  it  was  deemed  that  it  ought  to 
pass,  like  any  other  possession,  according  to  the  strict  rules 
of  inheritance.    Thus  the  crown  became  more  and  more 


RESULTS  OF  TTTE  NORMAN  CONQUEST        43 

hereditary  and  less  and  less  elective.  For  several  reigns  after 
the  Norman  Conquest,  things  so  turned  out  that  strict  heredi- 
tary succession  could  not  be  observed.  Still,  from  the  time  of 
the  Conquest,  the  tendency  was  in  favour  of  strict  hereditary 
succession,  and  it  became  the  rule  in  the  long  run. 

6.  Effects  on  the  Constitution  and  Administration.  Wq 
have  already  seen  that  both  William  the  Conqueror  and  the 
Norman  kings  after  him  made  very  few  direct  changes  in  the 
law.  Nor  did  they  make  many  formal  changes  in  government 
and  administration.  They  destroyed  no  old  institutions  or 
offices,  but  they  set  up  some  new  ones  by  the  side  of  the  old. 
And  of  these  sometimes  the  old  lived  on  till  later  times,  and 
sometimes  the  new.  And  sometimes  old  things  got  new 
names,  which  might  make  us  think  that  more  change  hap- 
pened than  really  did.  And  in  this  case  again  sometimes  the 
old  names  lived  on  and  sometimes  the  new.  Thus  the  Nor- 
mans called  the  s/nre  the  county,  and  the  king's  chief  officer 
in  it,  the  sheriff,  they  called  the  viscount.  Now  we  use  the 
word  county  oftener  than  the  word  shire  ;  but  the  sheriff  is 
never  called  viscount,  a  word  which  has  got  another  meaning. 
So  in  the  greatest  case  of  all,  the  King  is  still  called  King 
by  his  Old  English  name,  but  the  assembly  of  the  nation,  the 
Witenagcmot  or  Meeting  of  the  Wise  Men,  is  called  a  Parlia- 
ment. But  this  is  simply  because  the  wise  men  spoke  or 
parleyed  with  the  king,  as  we  read  before  that  King  William 
had  "'  very  deep  speech  with  his  Wise  Men  "  before  he  or- 
dered the  great  survey.  What  is  much  more  important  than 
the  change  of  name  is  that  the  assembly  has  quite  changed 
its  constitution.  And  yet  it  is  truly  the  same  assembly  going 
on  ;  there  has  been  no  sudden  break ;  changes  have  been 
made  bit  by  bit ;  but  we  have  never  been  without  a  national 
assembly  of  some  kind,  and  there  never  was  any  time  when 
one  kind  of  assemblv  was  abolished  and  another  kind  put  in 


44  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH   HISTORY 

its  stead.  The  greatest  change  that  ever  happened  in  a  short 
time  was  that,  in  the  twenty-one  years  of  the  Conqueror's 
reign,  an  assembly  which  was  almost  wholly  an  assembly  of 
Englishmen  changed  into  one  which  was  almost  wholly  an 
assembly  of  Normans.  But  even  this  change  was  not  made 
all  at  once.  There  was  no  time  when  Englishmen  as  a  body 
were  turned  out,  and  Normans  as  a  body  put  in.  Only,  as 
the  Englishmen  who  held  great  ofifices  died  or  lost  them  one 
by  one,  Normans  and  other  strangers  were  put  in  their  places 
one  by  one.  Thus  there  came  a  great  change  in  the  spirit 
and  working  of  the  assembly  ;  but  there  was  little  or  no  im- 
mediate change  in  its  form.  And  so  it  was  in  everything  else. 
Without  any  sudden  change,  without  ever  abolishing  old  things 
and  setting  up  new  ones,  new  ideas  came  in  and  practically 
made  great  changes  in  things  which  were  hardly  at  all  changed 
in  form.  It  is  a  mistake  to  think  that  our  Old-English  insti- 
tutions were  ever  abolished  and  new  Norman  institutions  set 
up  in  their  stead.  But  it  is  quite  true  that  our  Old-English 
institutions  were  greatly  changed,  bit  by  bit,  by  new  ways  of 
thinking  and  doing  brought  over  from  Normandy. 

7.  Effects  of  the  Conqueror's  Personal  Character.  Besides 
all  other  more  general  causes,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  the 
personal  character  of  William  himself  had  a  great  effect  on 
the  whole  later  course  of  English  history.  As  William  had 
no  love  for  oppression  for  its  own  sake,  so  neither  had  he 
any  love  for  change  for  its  own  sake.  He  saw  that,  without 
making  any  violent  changes  in  English  law,  he  could  get  to 
himself  as  much  power  as  he  could  wish  for.  Both  he  and 
the  kings  for  some  time  after  him  were  practically  despots, 
kings,  that  is,  who  did  according  to  their  own  will.  But  they 
did  according  to  their  own  will,  because  they  kept  on  all  the 
old  forms  of  freedom  ;  so,  in  after  times,  as  the  kings  grew 
weaker  and  the  nation  grew  stronger,  life  could  be  put  again 


RESUTTS  DI'  'I'lIF.  NORMAN  CONQUEST         45 

into  the  forms,  and  the  old  freedom  could  be  won  back  again. 
A  smaller  man  than  Williani.  one  less  strong  and  wise,  would 
most  likely  ha\e  changed  a  great  deal  more.  And  by  so  do- 
ing he  would  have  raised  far  more  opposition,  and  would  have 
done  far  more  mischief  in  the  long  run.  William's  whole 
position  was  that  he  was  lawful  King  of  the  English,  reign- 
ing according  to  P'lnglish  law.  But  a  smaller  man  than 
William  would  hardly  have  been  able  at  once  outwardly  to 
keep  that  position,  and  at  the  same  time  really  to  do  in  all 
things  as  he  thought  fit.  It  is  largely  owing  to  William's 
wisdom  that  there  was  no  violent  change,  no  sudden  break, 
but  that  the  general  system  of  things  went  on  as  before,  allow- 
ing this  and  that  to  be  changed  bit  by  bit  in  after  times,  as 
change  was  found  to  be  needed. 

8.  Relations  of  Normans  and  Englishmen.  It  followed 
almost  necessarily  from  the  peculiar  nature  of  William's  con- 
quest that  in  no  conquest  did  the  conquerors  and  the  conquered 
sooner  join  together  into  one  people.  .  .  .  Of  course  in  this 
mixing  together,  the  two  nations  influenced  one  another  ;  each 
learned  and  borrowed  something  from  the  other.  The  Eng- 
lish did  not  become  Normans  ;  the  Normans  did  become 
Englishmen  ;  but  the  Normans,  in  becoming  Englishmen, 
greatly  influenced  tlic  English  nation,  and  brought  in  many 
ways  of  thinking  and  doing  which  had  not  been  known  in 
England  before. 

9.  Effects  of  the  Conquest  on  Language.  Above  all  things, 
this  took  place  in  the  matter  of  language.  In  this  we  carry 
about  us  to  this  day  the  most  speaking  signs  of  the  Norman 
Conquest.  .  .  .  Our  own  Old-English  tongue,  as  it  was  spoken 
when  the  Normans  came,  was  a  pure  Teutonic  tongue,  that 
is,  it  was  as  ncarl\'  pure  as  any  tongue  ever  is  ;  for  there  is 
no  tongue  which  has  not  borrowed  some  words  from  others. 
So  we  had,  since  we  came  into  Britain,  picked  up  a  few  words 


46  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

from  the  Welsh,  and  more  from  the  Latin.  But  these  were 
simply  names  of  things  which  we  knew  nothing  about  till  we 
came  hither,  foreign  things  which  we  called  by  foreign  names. 
And  we  had  kept  our  grammar,  and  what  grammarians  call 
the  inflexions,  that  is,  the  forms  and  endings  of  words,  quite 
untouched.  The  Normans,  on  the  other  hand,  after  their 
settlement  in  Gaul,  had  quite  forgotten  their  old  Danish 
tongue,  allied  to  the  English,  and,  when  they  came  to  Eng- 
land, they  all  spoke  French.  F"rench  is  the  Romajice  tongue 
of  Northern  Gaul,  that  is,  the  tongue  which  grew  up  there 
as  the  Latin  tongue  lost  its  old  form,  and  a  good  many  Teu- 
tonic words  crept  in.  The  effect  of  the  Norman  Conquest  on 
our  tongue  has  been  twofold.  We  have  lost  nearly  all  our 
inflexions  ;  we  should  \ery  likely  have  lost  most  of  them  if 
there  had  been  no  Norman  Conquest,  for  the  other  Teutonic 
tongues  have  all  lost  some  or  all  of  their  inflexions  ;  but  the 
Norman  Conquest  made  this  work  begin  sooner  and  go  on 
quicker.  Then  we  borrowed  a  vast  number  of  French  words, 
many  of  them  words  which  we  did  not  want  at  all,  names  of 
things  which  already  had  English  names.  But  this  happened 
very  gradually.  For  some  while  the  two  languages,  French 
and  English,  were  spoken  side  by  side  without  greatly  affect- 
ing one  another.  French  was  the  polite  speech,  Latin  the 
learned  speech,  English  the  speech  of  the  people  ;  but  for  a 
hundred  and  fifty  years  after  the  Conquest,  French  was  never 
used  in  public  documents.  Before  long  the  Normans  in  Eng- 
land learned  to  speak  English,  and  they  seem  to  have  done 
so  commonly  by  the  end  of  the  twelfth  century,  though  of 
^course  they  could  speak  French  as  well.  Then  there  came  in 
a  French  as  distinguished  from  a  Norman  influence  ;  French 
came  in  as  a  fashion,  and  it  was  not  till  the  fourteenth  cen- 
tury that  English  quite  won  the  day ;  and  when  it  came  in, 
it  had  lost  many  of  its  inflexions,  and  borrowed  very  many 


RESULTS  OF  THE  NORMAN  CONQUEST        47 

French  words.  And  since  this  we  have  gone  on  taking  in 
new  words  from  French,  Latin,  and  other  tongues,  because 
we  have  lost  the  habit  of  making  new  words  in  our  own 
tongue.  All  these  later  changes  are  not  direct  effects  of  the 
Norman  Conquest ;  still  they  are  effects.  The  French  fashion 
could  never  have  set  in  so  strongly  if  the  French  tongue  had 
not  been  already  brought  in  by  the  Normans. 

10.  Effects  of  the  Conquest  on  Learning  and  Literature. 
There  can  be  no  doubt  that  in  all  matters  of  learning  the 
Norman  Conquest  caused  a  great  immediate  advance  in  Eng- 
land. There  had  in  earlier  times  been  more  than  one  learned 
period  in  England  ;  but  the  Danish  wars  had  thrown  things 
back,  and  it  docs  not  seem  that  Edward,  with  all  his  love  for 
strangers,  did  much  to  encourage  foreign  scholars.  But  with 
the  coming  of  William  this  changed  at  once.  Lanfranc  and 
Anselm,  for  instance,  the  first  archbishops  of  Canterbury 
after  the  Conquest,  were  the  greatest  scholars  of  their  time. 
Men  of  learning  and  science  of  all  kinds  came  to  England, 
and  men  in  England,  both  of  Norman  and  of  English  blood, 
took  to  learning  and  science.  We  have  therefore  during  the 
twelfth  century  a  large  stock  of  good  writers  who  were  born 
or  who  lived  in  England.  But  they  wrote  in  Latin,  as  was 
usual  then  and  long  after  with  learned  men  throughout  Wes- 
tern Europe  ;  they  therefore  did  nothing  for  the  encourage- 
ment of  a  native  literature.  Still  men  did  not  leave  off 
writing  in  English  ;  the  English  Chronicle  goes  on  during 
the  first  half  of  the  twelfth  centur)',  and  small  pieces,  chiefly 
religious,  were  still  written.  But  the  Norman  Conquest  had 
the  effect  of  thrusting  down  Trnglish  literature  into  a  lower 
place  ;  even  when  it  was  commonly  spoken,  it  ceased  to  be 
either  a  learned  or  a  polite  tongue.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
newly-born  French  literature  took  great  root  in  England.  It 
was  about  the  time  of  the  Conquest  that  men  in  Northern 


48  READINGS  IX  ENGLISH   HISTORY 

Gaul  found  out  that  the  French  tongue  which  they  talked  had 
become  so  different  from  the  Latin  which  they  wrote  that  it 
would  be  possible  to  write  in  French  as  well  as  to  speak  it. 
The  oldest  French  books,  like  the  oldest  books  of  most  lan- 
guages, are  in  verse,  and  this  new  French  verse  flourished 
greatly  among  the  Normans,  both  in  Normandy  and  in  Eng- 
land. Thus  Wace  wrote  the  story  of  the  Norman  dukes,  and 
specially  of  the  Conquest  of  England.  Others,  who  were  set- 
tled in  England  and  began  to  love  their  new  land,  wrote  books 
of  English  and  British  history  and  legend.  Thus,  for  a  long 
time  after  the  Conquest,  there  was  much  writing  going  on  in 
England  in  all  three  languages.  Many  French  writings  were 
translated  into  English,  and  some  English  writings  into 
French.  But  all  this,  though  it  showed  how  men's  minds 
were  at  work,  kept  down  the  real  tongue  and  the  real  litera- 
ture of  the  land  for  several  ages. 

IL  Effects  of  the  Conquest  on  Art.  In  those  days  there 
was  not  much  art  in  Western  Europe,  save  the  art  of  building. 
Books  were  illuminated,  and  there  was  both  painting  and 
sculpture  in  churches,  but  they  were  what  would  be  now 
thought  YQry  rude  work.  Both  in  Germany  and  in  England 
the  art  of  embroidery  seems  to  have  flourished  ;  but  that  is 
hardly  art  in  any  high  sense.  But  in  the  art  of  building  the 
Norman  Conquest  of  England  marks  a  great  stage.  When 
we  speak  of  building,  we  have  mainly  to  do  with  churches  and 
castles  ;  houses  were  commonly  of  wood,  as  indeed  churches 
and  castles  often  were  also.  In  the  eleventh  century  men  still 
built  throughout  Christendom  with  round  arches,  after  the 
manner  of  the  old  Romans.  And  in  Western  Europe  they 
built  everywhere  very  much  after  the  same  pattern,  one  which 
came  from  Italy.  But  in  the  eleventh  century  men  began  to 
strike  out  new  ways  in  architecture,  and,  without  wholly  for- 
saking the  old  Roman  models  with  their  round  arches,  they 


RKSriTS  OF  THF  XORMAX  COXQUEST         49 

devised  new  local  styles  in  different  parts.  Thus  one  form  of 
what  is  called  Romanesque  architecture  arose  in  Italy,  another 
in  Southern  Gaul,  another  in  Northern  Gaul,  and  so  on.  The 
Normans  of  William's  day  were  great  builders,  and  the  Ro- 
manesque style  of  Northern  Gaul  grew  up  chiefly  in  Nor- 
mandy, and  is  commonly  called  Norman.  In  Edward's  day 
this  new  style  came  into  England  among  other  Norman 
fashions,  and  under  William  it  took  firmer  root.  The  new 
prelates  despised  the  P^nglish  churches  as  too  small,  and  they 
rebuilt  them  on  a  greater  scale,  and  of  course  in  the  new  style. 
For  a  while  the  old  style  which  England  had  in  common  with 
the  rest  of  Western  Europe  was  still  used  in  smaller  build- 
ings ;  but  by  the  end  of  the  eleventh  century  the  Norman 
style  had  taken  full  root  in  England,  and  in  the  twelfth  cen- 
tury it  grew  much  richer  and  lighter.  And  as  stone  building 
came  more  and  more  into  use,  the  style  spread  to  houses  and 
other  buildings. 

12.  Effect  of  the  Conquest  on  Warfare.  Military  architec- 
ture, the  building  of  castles  and  other  strong  places,  is  in 
some  sort  a  part  of  the  history  of  the  building  art,  no  less 
than  the  building  of  churches  and  houses.  Still  it  has  a  char- 
acter and  a  history  of  its  own.  In  this  matter,  and  in  all 
matters  which  had  to  do  with  warfare,  the  Norman  Conquest 
made  the  greatest  change  of  all.  In  England  men  could  fence 
in  a  town  with  walls,  but  they  had  no  strong  castles.  Their 
strong  places  were  great  mounds  with  a  wooden  defence  on 
the  top.  But  the  Normans  brought  in  the  fashion  of  building 
castles,  as  we  have  seen  in  the  history  of  Edward's  reign. 
They  sometimes  built  lighter  keeps  on  the  old  mounds ; 
sometimes  they  built  massive  strong  towers  ;  and  in  either 
case  they  were  fond  of  surrounding  them  with  deep  ditches. 
These  w-ere  the  t\pcs  which  the  Normans  brought  in,  and 
they  grew  into  the  elaborate  castles  of  later  times.    Thus  the 


50  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH   HISTORY 

land  was  filled  with  castles,  and  warfare  took  mainly  the  form 
of  attacking  and  besieging  them.  After  the  Norman  Conquest 
we  hear  for  a  long  time  much  more  of  sieges,  and  much  less 
of  battles  in  the  open  field,  while  in  the  Danish  wars  we  heard 
much  more  of  battles  than  of  sieges.  The  Normans  also 
brought  their  own  way  of  fighting  into  England,  and  made 
great  changes  in  English  armies.  Before  the  Conquest  we 
had  no  horsemen  and  very  few  archers  ;  from  this  time  we 
have  both,  and  the  old  array  goes  out  of  use.  Yet  we  some- 
times read  of  the  Norman  knights  getting  down  from  their 
horses  and  fighting  with  swords  or  axes  in  Old-English  fash- 
ion. And,  as  the  archers  came  to  be  the  strongest  part  of  an 
English  army,  and  that  which  was  thought  specially  English, 
it  was  in  one  way  a  going  back  to  the  old  state  of  things. 
The  weapon  was  changed  ;  but,  in  times  when  horsemen 
were  most  thought  of,  a  stout  body  of  foot  was  still  the 
strength  of  an   English  army. 

13.  Summary.  Thus  we  see  the  special  way  in  which  the 
Norman  Conquest,  owing  to  its  own  special  nature  and  to 
the  personal  character  of  William,  acted  upon  England.  It 
did  not  destroy  or  abolish  our  old  laws  or  institutions  ;  but 
by  influencing,  it  gradually  changed,  and  in  the  end  pre- 
served. And  in  this  way  the  Conquest  worked  in  the  end  for 
good.  We  have  really  kept  a  more  direct  connexion  with  the 
oldest  times,  without  any  sudden  break  or  change,  than  those 
kindred  nations  which  have  never  in  the  same  way  been 
conquered  by  strangers.  There  has  been  great  change,  but 
it  has  been  all  bit  by  bit,  with  no  general  upsetting  at  any 
particular  time. 


THE  CHARTER  OF  HENRY  I  51 

Number  g 
THE  CHARTER  OF  HENRY  I 

Roger    of   Wkndover.    The    Flowers  of  History,    Vol.    I,    pp.    446-448. 
Translated  by  J.  A.  Giles. 
The  Flowers  of  History  was  a  chronicle  compiled  at  the  monastery  of 
St.  Albans. 

King  William  being  dead,  the  nobles  of  England  did  not 
know  what  had  become  of  his  eldest  brother  Robert,  duke  of 
Normandy,  who  had  now  been  five  years  on  the  expedition 
to  Jerusalem,  and  they  were  unwilling  for  the  kingdom  to 
remain  long  without  a  ruler.  Henr)^  the  youngest  and  most 
prudent  of  the  brothers,  perceiving  this,  assembled  together 
the  clergy  and  people  of  England  at  London,  and,  to  induce 
them  to  espouse  his  cause  and  make  him  king,  he  promised 
them  to  revise  and  amend  the  laws  by  which  England  had 
been  oppressed  in  the  time  of  his  deceased  brother.  To  this 
the  clerg)'  and  people  replied,  that  if  he  would  confirm  to 
them  by  charter  all  the  liberties  and  customs  which  were  ob- 
served in  the  reign  of  the  holy  king  Eadward,  they  would 
accede  to  his  wishes  and  make  him  their  king.  This  Henry 
readily  engaged  to  do,  and,  confirming  the  same  by  an  oath, 
he  was  crowned  king  at  Westminster,  on  the  day  of  the  an- 
nunciation of  St.  Mary,  with  the  acclamations  of  the  clergy 
and  people ;  after  which  he  caused  these  privileges  to  be  re- 
duced to  writing,  to  the  honour  of  the  holy  church  and  the 
peace  of  his  people. 

Henry  by  the  grace  of  God,  king  of  England,  to  Hugh  de 
Bocland  sheriff,  and  all  his  faitliful  people,  both  French  and 
English,  in  Hertfordshire,  health.  Know  that  I,  by  the 
mercy  of  God  and  by  the  unanimous  consent  of  the  barons 
of  the  kingdom,  have  been  crowned  king  of  England  :  and, 


52  READINGS   IX   ENGLISH   HISTORY 

whereas  the  kingdom  has  been  oppressed  with  many  unjust 
exactions,  I,  to  the  honour  of  God,  and  in  the  love  which  I 
bear  to  all  of  you,  do  hereby  grant  liberty  to  God's  holy 
church,  that  I  will  not  make  it  subject  to  sale  or  let  it  out  to 
farm,  nor,  when  an  archbishop,  bishop,  or  abbat  is  dead,  will 
I  receive  anything  from  the  domain  of  the  church,  or  of  its 
vassals,  until  a  successor  is  appointed  to  it :  and  all  the  evil 
customs  by  which  the  kingdom  of  England  has  been  unjustly 
oppressed,  I  hereby  annul,  which  evil  customs  I  here  in  part 
enumerate. 

If  any  of  my  barons,  earls,  or  others,  who  hold  of  me,  shall 
die,  his  heir  shall  not  redeem  his  lands,  as  he  was  accustomed 
to  do  in  the  time  of  my  father,  but  shall  pay  a  just  and  lawful 
relief  ^  for  the  same  :  in  the  same  way  also,  the  vassals  of  my 
barons  shall  pay  a  just  and  equitable  relief  to  resume  their 
lands  from  their  lords.  And,  if  any  of  my  barons  or  others 
shall  wish  to  give  his  daughter  or  sister,  or  niece  or  cousin,  to 
any  one  in  marriage,  he  may  communicate  with  me  thereon ; 
but  I  will  not  take  anything  from  him  for  a  licence,  nor  will 
I  prevent  him  from  giving  her  in  marriage,  unless  it  be  to  a 
man  who  is  my  enemy.  And  if  any  of  my  barons  or  others 
shall  die,  leaving  a  daughter  to  be  his  heir,  I  will  give  her  in 
marriage  together  with  her  inheritance  with  the  consent  of 
my  barons  ;  and  if,  when  the  husband  is  dead,  the  wife  re- 
mains alive  without  children,  she  shall  have  her  dowr)'  and 
her  right  of  marriage,  neither  will  I  give  her  in  marriage 
against  her  own  will.  But  if  the  wife  remains  alive  having 
children,  she  shall  have  her  dowry  and  right  of  marriage, 
whilst  she  shall  keep  her  person  according  to  law,  neither 
will  I  give  her  in  marriage  against  her  own  consent,  and 
the  lands  of  the  children  shall  be  in  the  custody  of  the 
wife,  or  some  near  relation,  according  to  what  is  just  and 

1  The  money  paid  by  an  incoming  heir  for  admission  to  his  inheritance.  —  Stubbs. 


11  IE  CllAR'lKR  or   IIKNRV  I  53 

right,  and  I  command  my  vassals  to  conduct  themselves  in 
the  same  way  towards  the  sons,  daughters,  and  wives  of 
their  vassals. 

As  regards  the  monetage  ^  in  common  use,  which  was 
taken  throughout  the  cities  and  counties,  which  was  not  so 
in  the  time  of  king  Eadward,  I  utterly  annul  and  prohibit 
it;  and  if  any  one  shall  be  taken,  either  moneyer^  or  other, 
with  false  money,  let  justice  be  done  upon  him  according  to 
law.  I  forgixe  all  the  pleas  and  debts  which  were  due  to 
the  king  my  brother,  except  my  farms,^  and  except  such  as 
were  contracted  for  the  inheritances  of  others,  or  for  those 
things  which  more  justly  concerned  other  people.  And  if 
any  one  had  made  any  bargain  for  his  inheritance,  I  forgive 
it,  together  with  all  reliefs,  which  were  agreed  on  for  their 
true  inheritances.  And  if  any  of  my  barons  or  vassals  shall 
be  rich,  in  whatever  way  he  ma}'  dispose  of  his  money,  it 
shall  be  confirmed  by  me  ;  but  if,  prevented  by  the  casualties 
of  war,  or  sickness,  he  shall  not  have  given  away  or  disposed 
of  his  money,  his  wife,  children,  or  parents,  and  lawful  vas- 
sals, shall  divide  it  for  the  good  of  his  soul,  as  to  them  shall 
seem  best.  If  any  one  of  my  barons  or  vassals  shall  commit 
forfeiture,^  he  shall  not  give  bail  in  mercy  for  his  money,  as 
he  would  have  done  in  the  time  of  my  father  or  brother,  but 
according  to  the  degree  of  the  forfeiture,  nor  shall  he  atone 

1  A  payment  by  the  moneyers  for  the  privilege  of  coining ;  otherwise  explained 
as  a  payment  by  the  subjects  to  prevent  loss  by  the  depreciation  or  change  of 
coinage.  —  Stubbs.  2  ,\  person  empowered  to  coin.  —  Stubbs. 

'^  A  fixed  sum  or  rent  payable  by  way  of  composition  ;  the  profits  of  the  county 
jurisdictions  let  at  fixed  sums  to  the  sheriffs.  —  Stubbs. 

*  Professor  E.  P.  Cheyney  in  "  Readings  in  English  Histor)-,''  p.  122,  gives  a 
clearer  version  of  this  passage  : 

If  any  of  my  barons  or  men  shall  have  committed  an  offense  he  shall  not  give  security  to 
the  extent  of  forfeiture  of  his  money,  as  he  did  in  the  time  of  my  father,  or  of  my  brother, 
but  according  to  the  measure  of  the  offense  so  shall  he  pay,  as  he  would  have  paid  from  the 
time  of  my  father  backward,  in  the  time  of  my  other  predecessors;  so  that  if  he  shall  have 
been  convicted  of  treachery  or  of  crime,  he  shall  pay  as  is  just. 


54  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

for  it  as  he  would  have  done  in  the  time  of  my  father  or  my 
brother ;  but  if  he  shall  be  convicted  of  perfidy  or  a  crime, 
according  to  the  crime,  so  shall  be  the  atonement.  All  past 
murders,  up  to  the  day  of  my  coronation,  are  hereby  forgiven  ; 
but  those  which  shall  in  future  be  committed  shall  be  justly 
atoned  for,  according  to  the  law  of  king  Eadward.  I  retain 
the  forests  in  my  own  hands,  by  the  consent  of  all  my  barons, 
in  the  same  way  as  my  father  held  them.  I  concede  to  all 
knights  who  defend  their  own  lands  by  arms,  to  hold  all  the 
lands  of  their  domains  free  from  all  gelds  and  gifts  to  myself, 
that,  being  relieved  from  their  great  burden,  they  may  acquire 
experience  in  horses  and  arms,  and  be  ready  for  my  service 
and  for  the  defence  of  the  whole  kingdom.  I  establish  peace 
throughout  all  my  dominions,  and  I  command  it  henceforth 
to  be  observed.  I  restore  to  you  the  law  of  king  Eadward, 
with  those  improvements,  by  which  my  father,  with  the  con- 
sent of  the  barons,  amended  it.  If  any  one  has  taken  anything 
of  men  or  of  another's,  since  the  death  of  my  brother  king 
William,  let  the  whole  be  speedily  restored  without  altera- 
tion ;  and  if  any  one  shall  keep  back  any  part  thereof,  he  on 
whom  it  is  found,  shall  make  heavy  atonement  to  me  for  it. 
Witness  the  following,  Maurice  bishop  of  London,  William 
elect  of  Winchester,  Girard  bishop  of  Hereford,  earl  Henry, 
earl  Simon,  earl  Walter  Gifford,  Robert  de  Montford,  Roger 
Bigod,  and  many  others. 

There  were  as  many  of  these  charters  made,  as  there  are 
counties  in  England,  and  by  the  king's  orders,  they  were 
placed  in  the  abbeys  of  each  county  for  a  memorial. 


HENRV  11  55 

Number  lo 
HENRY  II 

Peter  of  Blois.    Materials  for  the  History  of  A7xhbishop  Thomas  Becket, 

Vol.  VII,  pp.  571-575.    J.  C.  Robertson,  editor.    Translated  by  II.  E. 

Tuell. 

Peter  of  Blois  was  secretary  to  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury.    He  knew 

Henry  II  well,  and  the  two  letters  from  which  these  extracts  are  translated 

give  a  vivid  picture  of  Henry  Plantagenct  as  he  appeared  to  his  friends. 


What  you  have  urgently  asked  me,  —  to  send  you  a  true 
account  of  the  appearance  and  habits  of  the  lord  king  of 
England,  is  indeed  beyond  my  power.  For  that  task  even 
the  genius  of  a  Virgil  would  seem  insufficient.  But  what  I 
know  I  will  tell  you  without  malice  or  slander. 

Of  David  it  is  written  in  praise  of  his  beauty,  that  he  was 
of  a  ruddy  complexion,  and  you  know  that  the  lord  king  was 
somew'hat  ruddy  until  venerable  old  age  and  the  coming  of 
gray  hair  changed  him  a  little. ^  He  is  of  medium  height,  so  that 
among  short  men  he  appears  tall  and  not  insignificant  among 
taller  ones.  His  head  is  round  in  shape,  as  if  it  were  the  seat 
of  great  wisdom  and  the  special  sanctuary  of  noble  counsel. 
In  size  it  harmonises  well  with  his  neck  and  the  proportions 
of  his  whole  body.  His  eyes  are  round,  and  when  he  is  in  a 
peaceable  mood,  dovelike  and  quiet ;  but  when  he  is  angr)' 
and  his  spirit  is  disturbed,  they  seem  to  fiash  fire  and  are  like 
lightening.  He  is  not  bald,  but  his  hair  is  kept  close-cut. 
His  face  is  lion-like  and  quadrangular  in  shape.  His  nose  is 
prominent,  in  keeping  with  the  symmetry  of  his  whole  body ; 
his  highly-arched  feet,  limbs  suited  for  horsemanship,  broad 

1  This  was  written  in  1177  a.u. 


56  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

chest  and  brawny  arms  proclaim  him  a  man  strong,  active 
and  daring.  ...  His  hands  by  their  coarseness  show  the  in- 
difference of  the  man,  for  he  neglects  them  absolutely  and 
never  puts  on  a  glove  except  when  he  is  hawking.  Every 
day,  all  day  long,  he  is  standing  on  his  feet,  whether  at  mass, 
in  council,  or  engaged  in  other  public  business,  and  although 
his  limbs  are  terribly  bruised  and  discoloured  from  the  effects 
of  hard  riding,  he  never  sits  down  unless  he  is  on  horseback 
or  is  eating.  In  one  day,  if  business  demands  it,  he  accom- 
plishes four  or  five  days'  journeys,  and  so,  by  his  rapid  and 
unexpected  movements  he  often  forestalls  and  defeats  the 
plans  of  his  enemies.  He  wears  straight  boots,  a  plain  hat, 
and  easy  dress.  An  ardent  lover  of  field  sports,  he  is  no 
sooner  through  with  a  battle  than  he  is  exercising  with  hawk 
and  hound.  He  would  find  his  heavy  weight  a  burden  did 
he  not  overcome  his  tendency  to  corpulence  by  fasting  and 
exercise.  He  is  still  able  to  mount  a  horse  and  to  ride  with 
all  the  lightness  of  youth,  and  he  tires  out  the  strongest  men 
by  his  travels  nearly  every  day.  For  he  does  not,  like  other 
kings,  stay  quiet  in  his  palace,  but  rushing  through  the  prov- 
inces he  inquires  into  the  deeds  of  all  men,  judging  especially 
those  whom  he  has  appointed  to  be  judges  over  others. 

No  one  is  more  shrewd  in  counsel,  more  ready  in  speech, 
more  fearless  in  danger,  in  prosperity  more  prudent,  in  adver- 
sity more  steadfast.  The  man  whom  he  has  once  loved  he 
always  loves,  but  he  will  rarely  admit  to  familiarity  one  whom 
he  has  once  found  disagreeable.  Unless  he  is  in  council  or 
at  his  books  he  always  has  in  his  hands  a  bow,  a  sword, 
spears  and  arrows.  For  whenever  he  can  take  a  respite  from 
cares  and  anxieties  he  occupies  himself  with  private  reading, 
or  in  the  midst  of  a  group  of  clergymen,  endeavours  to  solve 
some  knotty  problem.  Your  king  knows  literature  well,  but 
ours  is  much  better  versed  in  it.    For  I  know  the  attainments 


HENRY 


57 


of  each  of  them  in  the  knowledge  of  books.  You  know  that 
the  lord  king  of  Sicily  was  my  pupil  for  a  year,  and  after  he 
had  learned  from  you  the  elements  of  versification  and  literary 
art,  by  my  industry  and  care  he  gained  the  benefit  of  fuller 
knowledge.  But,  as  soon  as  I  left  the  kingdom,  throwing 
aside  his  books,  he  gave  himself  up  to  the  idleness  of  the 
palace.  But  as  for  the  lord  king  of  England,  his  daily  leisure 
is  habitually  devoted  to  the  conversation  of  learned  men  and 
the  discussion  of  questions.  None  more  than  our  king  is 
honorable  in  speech,  restrained  in  eating,  moderate  in  drink- 
ing, none  is  more  noble  at  home  ;  hence  his  name  is  spread 
out  like  sweet  ointment  and  the  whole  church  of  the  saints 
celebrates  his  alms.  Our  king  is  of  a  peaceful  disposition, 
victorious  in  war,  glorious  in  peace,  and  above  all  the  desir- 
able things  in  this  world  he  zealously  looks  out  for  the  peace 
of  his  people.  Whatever  he  thinks  or  says  or  does  is  for  the 
peace  of  his  people.  That  his  people  may  have  peace  he 
constantly  undergoes  troublesome  and  grievous  toil.  With  a 
view  to  the  peace  of  his  people  he  calls  councils,  makes  treaties, 
forms  alliances,  humbles  the  proud,  threatens  war,  strikes  terror 
to  rulers.  For  the  peace  of  his  people  he  uses  that  enormous 
wealth  which  he  gives,  receives,  collects  and  spends.  No  one 
is  more  skillful  or  lavish  than  he  in  building  walls,  defences, 
fortifications,  moats,  places  of  enclosure  for  game  and  fish, 
and  in  building  palaces. 

His  father,  a  very  powerful  and  noble  count,  made  great 
additions  to  his  territory,  but  he,  by  the  strength  of  his  own 
hand  adding  to  his  father's  possessions  the  duchies  of  Nor- 
mandy, Aquitaine  and  Brittany,  the  kingdoms  of  England, 
Scotland,  Ireland  and  Wales,  has  beyond  measure  surpassed 
his  noble  father's  claims  to  greatness.  No  one  is  more  gentle 
to  the  afflicted,  more  kind  to  the  poor,  more  oppressive  to  the 
proud  ;  for  he  has  always  made  it  a  study  like  a  god  to  put 


58  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

down  the  insolent,  to  raise  the  oppressed,  and  to  the  arrogance 
of  pride  to  oppose  continual  and  grievous  persecutions.  But 
although,  after  the  custom  of  the  kingdom,  he  takes  a  very 
powerful  and  important  part  in  making  appointments,  yet  he 
has  always  kept  his  hands  clean  and  free  from  all  venality. 
I  will  not  describe,  but  will  merely  touch  in  passing  those 
other  gifts,  both  of  mind  and  body,  with  which  nature  has 
endowed  him  far  above  other  men ;  for  I  confess  my  incom- 
petence, and  indeed  I  should  consider  Cicero  or  Virgil  un- 
equal to  so  great  a  task.  .  .  . 


II 

Petri    Blesensis    Opera    Omnia,   Vol.    I,    pp.    229-230.    Migne,  Patrologia. 
Translated  by  H.  E.  Tuell. 

Peter  of  Blois,  archdeacon  of  Bath,  to  Roger  the  deacon, 
greeting  and  good  counsel : 

No  teacher  is  more  trustworthy  or  more  efficient  than  he 
who  has  tested  by  experience  the  theory  which  he  teaches. 
Not  long  since  I  was  sent  to  the  king  on  business  connected 
with  the  church  of  Canterbury.  As  usual  I  went  into  his 
presence  cheerfully,  but  reading  and  understanding  from  his 
face  the  vexation  of  his  spirit,  I  immediately  closed  my  lips 
and  held  my  tongue,  fearful  lest  I  should  increase  his  irrita- 
tion, for  to  me  his  face  was  a  faithful  interpreter  of  his  mind. 
So  I  postponed  my  business  until  a  more  favorable  hour  and 
a  more  serene  countenance  should  prosper  it.  For  he  who 
approaches  an  angry  prince  on  business  is  like  unto  one  who 
spreads  his  nets  in  a  storm.  He  who  offers  himself  to  the 
tempest  without  waiting  for  smoother  water  quickly  destroys 
both  himself  and  his  nets.  I  know  that  your  mission  to  the 
king  is  a  disagreeable  one,  therefore  it  behooves  you  to  carry 
yourself  all  the  more  cautiously.    For  even  pleasant  news  may 


HENRY  II  AND  BECKET 


59 


be  irritating  at  an  inopportune  time  and  sometimes  disagree- 
able matter  may  be  so  presented  as  to  give  pleasure.  Be 
careful  then.  Do  not  hurry  to  bring  your  business  before 
the  king  until  the  way  is  prepared  by  me  or  by  some  one 
else  who  knows  his  habits.  For  he  is  a  lamb  when  his  m.ind 
is  at  ease,  but  a  lion  or  more  fierce  than  a  lion  when  he  is 
aroused.  It  is  no  joke  to  incur  the  anger  of  one  in  whose 
hands  are  honor  and  disgrace,  heirship  and  exile,  life  and 
death.  Witness  Solomon  :  the  anger  of  a  king  is  the  mes- 
senger of  death. 

Number  1 1 

HENRY   II   AND   BECKET 

Alfred  Tennyson.    Becket. 

Prologue 

Scene.    A  Castle  in  Normandy.    Interior  of  the  Hall.    Roofs 
of  a  City  seen  thro'  Windows 

Henry  and  Becket  at  chess 

Henry.    So  then  our  good  Archbishop  Theobald 
Lies  dying. 

Becket.    I  am  grieved  to  know  as  much. 

Henry.    But  we  must  h^ive  a  mightier  man  than  he 
For  his  successor. 

Becket.  Have  you  thought  of  one  } 

Henry.    A  cleric  lately  poison 'd  his  own  mother, 
And  being  brought  before  the  courts  of  the  Church, 
They  but  degraded  him.    I  hope  they  whipt  him. 
I  would  have  hang'd  him. 


6o  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

The  Church  in  the  pell-mell  of  Stephen's  time 

Hath  climb'd  the  throne  and  almost  clutch'd  the  crown  ; 

But  by  the  royal  customs  of  our  realm 

The  Church  should  hold  her  baronies  of  me, 

Like  other  lords  amenable  to  law. 

I'll  have  them  written  down  and  made  the  law. 

And  if  I  live, 
No  man  without  my  leave  shall  excommunicate 
My  tenants  or  my  household. 

•  •■•••■•• 

No  man  without  my  leave  shall  cross  the  seas 
To  set  the  Pope  against  me  — 

Henry.    A  moment !   thou  didst  help  me  to  my  throne 
In  Theobald's  time,  and  after  by  thy  wisdom 
Hast  kept  it  firm  from  shaking  ;  but  now  I, 
For  my  realm's  sake,  myself  must  be  the  wizard 
To  raise  that  tempest  which  will  set  it  trembling 
Only  to  base  it  deeper.    I,  true  son 
Of  Holy  Church  —  no  croucher  to  the  Gregories 
That  tread  the  kings  their  children  underheel  — 
Must  curb  her ;  and  the  Holy  Father,  while 
This  Barbarossa  butts  him  from  his  chair, 
Will  need  my  help  —  be  facile  to  my  hands. 
Now  is  my  time.    Yet  —  lest  there  should  be  flashes 
And  fulminations  from  the  side  of  Rome, 
An  interdict  on  England  —  I  will  have 
My  young  son  Henry  crown'd  the  King  of  England, 
That  so  the  Papal  bolt  may  pass  by  England, 
As  seeming  his,  not  mine,  and  fall  abroad. 
I'll  have  it  done  — and  now. 


HENRY   11  AM)   IJECKET  6 1 

Becket.  Surely  too  young 

Even  for  this  shadow  of  a  crown  ;  and  tho' 
I  love  him  heartily,  1  can  spy  already 
A  strain  of  hard  and  headstrong  in  him.    Say, 
The  Queen  should  play  his  kingship  against  thine ! 

Henry.     I  will  not  think  so,  Thomas.    Who  shall  crown 
him  .'' 
Canterbury  ^  is  dying. 

Becket.  The  next  Canterbury. 

Hctiry.   And    who    shall    he    be,    my    friend    Thomas } 
Who.? 

Becket.    Name  him  ;  the  Holy  Father  will  confirm  him. 

Henry  {lays  his  hand  on  Becket's  sJionlder).    Here  ! 

Becket.    Mock  me  not.    I  am  not  even  a  monk. 
Thy  jest  —  no  more.   Why  —  look  —  is  this  a  sleeve 
for  an  archbishop } 

Henry.  But  the  arm  within 

Is  Becket's,  who  hath  beaten  down  my  foes. 

Becket.    A  soldier's,  not  a  spiritual  arm. 

Henry.    I  lack  a  spiritual  soldier,  Thomas  ^ 
A  man  of  this  world  and  the  next  to  boot. 


Becket.  Sire,  the  business 

Of  thy  whole  kingdom  waits  me  ;  let  me  go. 

Henry.    Answer  mc  first. 

Becket.  Then  for  thy  barren  jest 

Take  thou  mine  answer  in  bare  commonplace  — 
N^olo  cpiscopari. 

Hemy.  A\',  but  Nolo 

ArcJiiepiscopari,  my  good  friend, 
Is  quite  another  matter. 

'  The  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  Theobald. 


62  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH   HISTORY 

Becket.  A  more  awful  one. 

Make  me  archbishop  !    Why,  my  hege,  I  know 
Some  three  or  four  poor  priests  a  thousand  times 
Fitter  for  this  grand  function.    Me  archbishop  ! 
God's  favor  and  king's  favor  might  so  clash 
That  thou  and  I That  were  a  jest  indeed  ! 

Henry.    Thou  angerest  me,  man  ;  I  do  not  jest. 


Act  I 

Scene  I.    Becket's  House  in  London 

Chamber  barely  furnished.    Becket  unrobing.    Herbert 
OF  BosHAM  and  Servant 

Herbert.    Was  not  the  people's  blessing  as  we  passed 
Heart-comfort  and  a  balsam  to  thy  blood  ? 

Becket.  The  people  know  their  Church  a  tower  of  strength, 
A  bulwark  against  Throne  and  l^aronage. 
Too  heavy  for  me,  this  ;  off  with  it,  Herbert ! 

Herbert.    Is  it  so  much  heavier  than  thy  Chancellor's  robe? 

Becket.    No  ;  but  the  Chancellor's  and  the  Archbishop's 
Together  more  than  mortal  man  can  bear. 

Herbert.    Not  heavier  than  thine  armor  at  Toulouse  ? 

Becket.    O  Herbert,  Herbert,  in  my  chancellorship 
I  more  than  once  have  gone  against  the  Church. 

Herbert.    To  please  the  King  } 

Becket.  Ay,  and  the  King  of  kings. 

Or  justice  ;  for  it  seem'd  to  me  but  just 
The  Church  should  pay  her  scutage  like  the  lords. 
But  hast  thou  heard  this  crv  of  Gilbert  Foliot 


HENRV   II  AND   UKCRKT  63 

That  I  am  not  the  man  to  be  your  primate, 
For  Henry  could  not  work  a  miracle  — 
Make  an  archbishop  of  a  soldier  ? 

Am  I  the  man  ?    That  rang 

Within  my  head  last  night,  and  when  I  slept 

Methought  I  stood  in  Canterbury  Minster, 

And  spake  to  the  Lord  God,  and  said,  '  O  Lord, 

I  have  been  a  lover  of  wines,  and  delicate  meats, 

And  secular  splendors,  and  a  favorer 

Of  players,  and  a  courtier,  and  a  feeder 

Of  dogs  and  hawks,  and  apes,  and  lions,  and  lynxes. 

Am  /  the  man  ?  '    And  the  Lord  answer'd  me, 

'  Thou  art  the  man,  and  all  the  more  the  man.' 

And  then  I  asked  again,  '  O  Lord  my  God, 

Henry  the  King  hath  been  my  friend,  my  brother. 

And  mine  uplifter  in  this  world,  and  chosen  me 

For  this  thy  great  archbishopric,  believing 

That  I  should  go  against  the  Church  with  him, 

And  I  shall  go  against  him  with  the  Church, 

And  I  have  said  no  word  of  this  to  him. 

Am  /  the  man  ?  '    And  the  Lord  answer'd  me, 

'  Thou  art  the  man,  and  all  the  more  the  man.' 

And  thereupon,  methought.  He  drew  toward  me, 

And  smote  me  down  upon  the  minster  floor. 

I  fell. 

••••••••a 

Herbert.    Be  comforted.   Thou  art  the  man  —  be  thou 
A  mightier  Anselm. 

Becket.    I  do  believe  thee,  then.    I  am  the  man. 
And  yet  I  seem  appall'd  —  on  such  a  sudden 
At  such  an  eagle-height  I  stand  and  see 
The  rift  that  runs  between  me  and  the  King. 


64  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH   HISTORY 

I  served  our  Theobald  well  when  I  was  with  him  ; 
I  served  King  Henry  well  as  Chancellor ; 
I  am  his  no  more,  and  I  must  serve  the  Church. 
This  Canterbury  is  only  less  than  Rome, 
And  all  my  doubts  I  fling  from  me  like  dust, 
Winnow  and  scatter  all  scruples  to  the  wind, 
And  all  the  puissance  of  the  warrior, 
And  all  the  wisdom  of  the  Chancellor, 
And  all  the  heap'd  experiences  of  life, 
I  cast  upon  the  side  of  Canterbury  — 
Our  holy  mother  Canterbury,  who  sits 
With  tatter' d  robes.    Laics  and  barons  thro' 
The  random  gifts  of  careless  kings,  have  graspt 
Her  livings,  her  advowsons,  granges,  farms. 
And  goodly  acres  —  we  will  make  her  whole  ; 
Not  one  rood  lost.    And  for  these  Royal  customs. 
These  ancient  Royal  customs  —  they  arc  Royal, 
Not  of  the  Church  —  and  let  them  be  anathema. 
And  all  that  speak  for  them  anathema. 

Herbert.    Thomas,  thou  art  moved  too  much. 

Beeket.  O  Herbert,  here 

I  gash  myself  asunder  from  the  King, 
Tho'  leaving  each,  a  wound  ;  mine  own,  a  grief 
To  show  the  scar  for  ever  —  his,  a  hate 
Not  ever  to  be  heal'd. 

My  friend,  the  King  !  —  O  thou  Great  Seal  of  England, 
Given  me  by  my  dear  friend,  the  King  of  England  — 
We  long  have  wrought  together,  thou  and  I  — 
Now  must  I  send  thee  as  a  common  friend 
To  tell  the  King,  my  friend,  I  am  against  him. 
We  are  friends  no  more  ;  he  will  say  that,  not  I. 
The  worldly  bond  between  us  is  dissolved, 


HENRY  TT  AND   P.KCKKT  Cy. 

Not  yet  the  love.    Can  I  be  under  him 

As  Chancellor  ?  as  Archbishop  over  him  ? 

Go  therefore  like  a  friend  slighted  by  one 

That  hath  climb'd  up  to  nobler  company. 

Not  slighted  —  all  but  moan'd  for.    Thou  must  go, 

I  have  not  dishonor'd  thee  —  I  trust  I  have  not  — 

Not  mangled  justice.    May  the  hand  that  next 

Inherits  thee  be  but  as  true  to  thee 

As  mine  hath  been  !    O  my  dear  friend,  the  King ! 

0  brother  !  —  I  may  come  to  martyrdom. 

1  am  martyr  in  myself  already.   .   .  . 


Scene  III.    The  Hall  in  Northampton  Castle 

Becket.    Where  is  the  King  1 

Roger  of  York.    Gone  hawking  on  the  Nene, 
His  heart  so  gall'd  with  thine  ingratitude, 
He  will  not  see  thy  face  till  thou  hast  sign'd 
These  ancient  laws  and  customs  of  the  realm. 
Thy  sending  back  the  Great  Seal  madden 'd  him  ; 
He  all  but  pluck'd  the  bearer's  eyes  away. 
Take  heed  lest  he  destroy  thee  utterl)-. 


Efiter  King  Henry 

Henr^i.    Where  's  Thomas  }  hath  he  signed  .?  show  me  the 
papers  ! 
Sign'd  and  not  seal'd  !    How  's  that .? 

John  of  Oxford.  He  would  not  seal. 

And  when  he  sign'd,  his  face  was  stormy-red  — 
Shame,  wrath,  I  know  not  what.    He  sat  down  there 
And  dropt  it  in  his  hands,  and  then  a  paleness, 


66  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

Like  the  wan  twilight  after  sunset,  crept 
Up  even  to  the  tonsure,  and  he  groan'd, 
'  False  to  myself !    It  is  the  will  of  God  !  ' 

Henry.    God's  will  be  what  it  will,  the  man  shall  seal, 
Or  I  will  seal  his  doom.    My  burgher's  son  — 
Nay,  if  I  cannot  break  him  as  the  prelate, 
I'll  crush  him  as  the  subject.    Send  for  him  back. 

\Sits  on  J  lis  throne 
Barons  and  bishops  of  our  realm  of  England, 
After  the  nineteen  winters  of  King  Stephen  — 
A  reign  which  was  no  reign,  when  none  could  sit 
By  his  own  hearth  in  peace  ;  when  murder  common 
As  nature's  death,  like  Egypt's  plague,  had  fill'd 
All  things  with  blood  ;  when  every  door-way  blush'd, 
Dash'd  red  with  that  unhallow'd  passover ; 
When  every  baron  ground  his  blade  in  blood  ; 
The  household  dough  was  kneaded  up  with  blood  ; 
The  mill-wheel  turn'd  in  blood ;  the  wholesome  plow 
Lay  rusting  in  the  furrow's  yellow  weeds, 
TiU'famine  dwarf t  the  race —  I  came,  your  King  ! 
Nor  dwelt  alone,  like  a  soft  lord  of  the  East, 
In  mine  own  hall,  and  sucking  thro'  fools'  ears 
The  flatteries  of  corruption  —  went  abroad 
Thro!  all  my  counties,  spied  my  people's  ways ; 
Yea,  heard  the  churl  against  the  baron  —  yea. 
And  did  him  justice  ;  sat  in  mine  own  courts 
Judging  my  judges,  that  had  found  a  King 
Who  ranged  confusions,  made  the  twilight  day. 
And  struck  a  shape  from  out  the  vague,  and  law 
From  madness.    And  the  event  —  our  fallows  till'd, 
Much  corn,  repeopled  towns,  a  realm  again. 
So  far  my  course,  albeit  not  glassy-smooth. 
Had  prosper'd  in  the  main,  but  suddenly 


HENRY  II  AND   I'.F.CKET  67 

Jarr'd  on  this  rock.    A  cleric  violated 

The  daughter  of  his  host,  and  murder'd  him. 

Bishops  —  York,  London,  Chichester,  Westminster  — 

Ye  haled  this  tonsured  devil  into  your  courts  ; 

But  since  your  canon  will  not  let  you  take 

Life  for  a  life,  ye  but  degraded  him 

Where  I  had  hang'd  him.    What  doth  hard  murder  care 

For  degradation  ?  and  that  made  me  muse. 

Being  boundcn  by  my  coronation  oath 

To  do  men  justice.    Look  to  it,  your  own  selves ! 

Say  that  a  cleric  murder'd  an  archbishop, 

What  could  ye  do  ?    Degrade,  imprison  him  — 

Not  death  for  death. 

Jo/in  of  Oxford.    But  I,  my  liege,  could  swear, 
To  death  for  death. 

Hemy.  And,  looking  thro'  my  reign, 

I  found  a  hundred  ghastly  murders  done 
By  men,  the  scum  and  offal  of  the  Church  ; 
Then,  glancing  thro'  the  story  of  this  realm, 
I  came  on  certain  wholesome  usages. 
Lost  in  desuetude,  of  my  grandsire's  day. 
Good  royal  customs  —  had  them  written  fair 
For  John  of  Oxford  here  to  read  to  you. 

John  of  Oxford.    And  I  can  easily  swear  to  these  as  being 
The  King's  will  and  God's  will  and  justice  ;  yet 
I  could  but  read  a  part  to-day,  because  — 

Fitznrsc.    Because  my  lord  of  Canterbury  — 

De  Tracy.  Ay, 

This  lord  of  Canterbury  — 

De  Bfito.  As  is  his  wont 

Too  much  of  late  whene'er  your  royal  rights 
Are  mooted  in  our  councils  — 

Fitznrsc.  —  made  an  uproar. 


68  READINGS   IN  ENGLISH   HISTORY 

Henry.    And  Becket  had  my  bosom  on  all  this  ; 
If  ever  man  by  bonds  of  gratefulness  — 
I  raised  him  from  the  puddle  of  the  gutter, 
I  made  him  porcelain  from  the  clay  of  the  city  — 
Thought  that  I  knew  him,  err'd  thro'  love  of  him, 
Hoped,  were  he  chosen  archbishop,  Church  and  Crown, 
Two  sisters  gliding  in  an  equal  dance. 
Two  rivers  gently  flowing  side  by  side  — 
But  no ! 

The  bird  that  moults  sings  the  same  song  again. 
The  snake  that  sloughs  comes  out  a  snake  again. 
Snake  —  ay,  but  he  that  lookt  a  fangless  one 
Issues  a  venomous  adder. 

For  he,  when  having  dofft  the  Chancellor's  robe  — 
Flung  the  Great  Seal  of  England  in  my  face  — 
Claim'd  some  of  our  crown  lands  for  Canterbury  — 
My  comrade,  boon  companion,  my  co-reveller. 
The  master  of  his  master,  the  King's  king.  — 
God's  eyes !    I  had  meant  to  make  him  all  but  king. 
Chancellor-Archbishop,  he  might  well  have  sway'd 
All  England  under  Henr)',  the  young  King, 
When  I  was  hence.    What  did  the  traitor  say  ? 
False  to  himself,  but  ten-fold  false  to  me  ! 
The  will  of  God  —  why,  then  it  is  my  will  — 
Is  he  coming } 

Messenger  {entering).    With  a  crowd  of  worshippers, 
And  holds  his  cross  before  him  thro'  the  crowd. 
As  one  that  puts  himself  in  sanctuary. 


HENRY    II   AND   P,KCKET  69 

Act  V 
Scene  III.    North  Transept  of  Canterbury  Cathedral 


Enter  the  Four  Knights  .   .   . 

Fitstcrse.    Here,  here,  King's  men  ! 

[Catches  hold  of  the  last  flying-  Monk 
Where  is  the  traitor  Becket  ? 
Monk.    I  am  not  he,  I  am  not  he,  my  lord. 
I  am  not  he  indeed. 

Fitaurse.  Hence  to  the  fiend  ! 

[P?ishcs  hivi  aivay 
Where  is  this  treble  traitor  to  the  King .? 

De  Tracy.    Where  is  the  Archbishop,  Thomas  Becket } 
Becket.  Here. 

No  traitor  to  the  King,  but  Priest  of  God, 
Primate  of  England. 

[Descending  into  the  transept 
I  am  he  ye  seek. 
What  would  you  have  of  me  .? 

Fitznrse.  Your  life. 

De  Tracy.  Your  life. 

De  Tracy  {lays  hold  of  the  pall).    Come  ;  as  he  said,  thou 

art  our  prisoner. 
Becket.  Down ! 

[  Throws  him  headlong 
Fitcnrse  {advances  with  drazvn  stvord).    I  told  thee  that 

I  should  remember  thee  ! 
Becket.    Profligate  pander ! 


JO  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

Fitzurse.  Do  you  hear  that  ?    Strike,  strike. 

\St7ikes  off  the  Archbishop's  mitre, 
and  zvoimds  him  in  the  forehead 
Becket  {covers  his  eyes  zvith  his  hand).    I  do  commend 
my  cause  to  God,  the  Virgin, 
Saint  Denis  of  France  and  Saint  Alphege  of  England, 
And  all  the  tutelar  Saints  of  Canterbury. 

•  •••>•..•• 

Becket   {falling  on   his  knees).     At    the   right    hand   of 
Power  — 
Power  and  great  glory  —  for  thy  Church,  O  Lord  — 
Into  thy  hands,  O  Lord  —  into  thy  hands  !  — 

\_Sinks  prone 


Number  12 
PORTRAIT  OF   KING  RICHARD  I 

Richard  (of  the  Holy  Trinity?).     Itinemrium  Pt'iri^n-hioriim  et  Gesta 

Regis  Ricardi,  Lib.  II,  c.  45.    T.  A.  Archer,  The  Crusade  of  Richard  /, 

pp.  7-S. 

The  Itinerarium  Peregrinorum  et  Gesta  Regis  Ricardi  is  supposed  to  be 

the  work  of  a  certain  Richard,  canon  of  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity  in 

London.    It  appears  to  be  largely  a  Latin  translation  of  the  narrative  of  a 

French  poet  who  went  on  the  Third  Crusade.    The  author  claims  that  he 

was  an  eyewitness  to  the  scenes  he  describes. 

He  was  lofty  in  stature,  of  a  shapely  build,  with  hair  half- 
way between  red  and  yellow.  His  limbs  were  straight  and 
flexible,  his  arms  somewhat  long  and,  for  this  very  reason, 
better  fitted  than  those  of  most  folk  to  draw  or  wield  the  sword. 
Moreover  he  had  long  legs,  matching  the  character  of  his 
whole  frame.  His  features  showed  the  ruler,  while  his  man- 
ners and  his  bearing  added  not  a  little  to  his  general  presence. 


AN  INCIDENT  OF  THE    TlllRD  CRUSADE        71 

Not  only  could  he  claim  the  loftiest  position  and  j^raise  in 
virtue  of  his  noble  birth,  but  also  by  reas(;n  of  his  virtues. 
But  why  should  I  extol  so  great  a  man  with  laboured  praise? 

Honour  enough  his  merit  brings, 

He  needs  no  alien  praise, 
In  whose  train,  Glory,  like  a  king's 

Follows  through  all  his  days. 

He  far  surpassed  other  men  in  the  courtesy  of  his  manners 
and  the  vastness  of  his  strength  ;  memorable  was  he  for  his 
warlike  deeds  and  power,  while  his  splendid  achievements 
would  throw  a  shade  over  the  greatest  praise  we  could 
give  them. 

Ntimber  13 

AN  INCIDENT  OF  THE  THIRD  CRUSADE 

Richard  (of  the  Holy  Trin'ity?).  Itinerarium  Peregritiorum  et  Gesta 
Regis  KicarJi,  Lib.  IV,  c.  30.  T.  A.  Archer,  The  Cnisade  of  Richard  I, 
pp.  1 77- 181.    For  the  author,  see  Number  12,  above. 

On  the  sixth  day  after  All  Saints,  that  is  on  the  Feast  of  St. 
Leonard,  there  went  out  into  the  country  certain  camp  fol- 
lowers and  men-at-arms  to  seek  grass  for  the  horses  and 
fodder  for  the  mules.  The  Templars  went  ahead  of  the 
men-at-arms  so  as  to  ensure  them  safety  as  they  wandered 
away  from  one  another  over  the  valleys  on  the  look  out  for 
grassy  places.  For  they  were  wont  to  scatter  themselves  in 
this  way  when  in  quest  of  herbage  —  herbage  which  they 
not  seldom  washed  with  their  blood  owing  to  their  lack  of 
caution.  While  the  Templars,  as  we  have  said,  were  keeping 
a  watch  over  the  men-at-arms,  suddenly  from  the  direction  of 
Bombrac  some  4000  Turkish  horsemen,  orderly  drawn  up  in 
four  squadrons,  leapt  forth  and  attacked  the  Templars  boldly. 
So  closely  did  they  hem  the  Templars  in  as  to  bid  fair  to 


72  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH   HISTORY 

destroy  or  take  them  captive.  This  band  of  Turks  was  con- 
stantly being  increased  by  fresh-comers,  till  the  Templars, 
hedged  in  as  they  were,  and  seeing  it  was  a  case  of  emer- 
gency, dismounted  from  their  steeds.  Then  setting  back  to 
back  firmly,  and  turning  their  faces  to  the  enemy,  they  began 
to  defend  themselves  manfully.  But  the  Turks  swooping 
down  killed  three  Templars  on  the  spot. 

Then  might  be  seen  indeed  a  fierce  fight,  and  blows  most 
valorous.  Helms  rang  and  fiery  sparks  darted  out  where 
sword  clashed  with  sword ;  armour  rattled,  and  there  was  a 
din  of  [many]  voices.  The  Turks  pressed  on  like  men  ;  the 
Templars  [as]  firmly  hurled  them  back  :  the  one  body  threat- 
ened ;  the  other  repelled.  The  Turks  came  on  bravely  ;  the 
Templars  defended  themselves  with  the  utmost  courage.  At 
last  the  Turks,  swarming  up  in  greater  numbers,  put  out  their 
hands  to  seize  the  Templars  who  were  now  almost  overpow- 
ered, when  lo !  Andrew  de  Chavigni,  coming  up  to  their  aid 
at  full  speed  with  1 5  knights,  rescued  them  from  the  hands 
of  their  foes.  Most  valiantly  did  the  same  Andrew  bear  him- 
self on  this  occasion,  as  did  also  his  comrades  when  they  set 
upon  this  crowd  of  enemies  and  routed  it.  But,  for  all  this, 
the  host  of  the  Turks  kept  on  growing  larger;  now  they 
pressed  on  ;  now  they  fled ;  then  once  more  the  battle  was 
renewed.  Meanwhile  king  Richard  who  was  carefully  super- 
vising the  fortification  of  Casal  Maen,  hearing  the  din  of 
conflict,  bade  the  two  earls  of  St.  Pol  and  Leicester  ride 
with  all  speed  to  the  Templars'  aid.  With  them  he  sent 
William  de  Cageu  and  Otho  de  Trasynges. 

As  these  knights  were  on  the  point  of  starting  there  rose 
a  cry  for  help  from  the  before-mentioned  men-at-arms.  Hear- 
ing this  the  king  bade  the  earls  make  speed  and,  seizing 
his  own  arms  as  fast  as  he  could,  followed  in  their  wake. 
Now,  as  the  two  earls  were  hastily  riding  along,  on  a  sudden 


AN  INCIDENT  OF  THE  THIRD  CRUSADE       73 

about  4000  of  the  enemy,  leaping  out  of  an  ambush  from 
the  neighborhood  of  a  certain  stream,  formed  themselves  into 
two  masses.  Of  these  two  thousand  attacked  the  Templars, 
while  the  other  two  thousand  turned  against  the  two  earls 
and  their  comrades.  Seeing  this  the  earls,  drawing  up  their 
men  in  fitting  order,  got  ready  for  battle.  .  .  . 

The  battle  was  already  raging  more  fiercely  on  either  side, 
when  Richard  came  up  trembling  [with  wrath].  Some  of  his 
followers  reckoning  the  men  he  led  too  few  to  attack  so  vast 
a  host  of  enemies,  said  to  him  :  '"  Lord  king,  we  judge  it  un- 
wise to  begin  what  we  are  not  sure  of  being  able  to  carry  out. 
We  do  not  judge  it  safe  to  attack  so  great  and  so  valiant  a 
force  with  only  a  few  [warriors].  Even  if  )ou  are  minded  to 
make  so  bold  a  venture  you  will  not  be  able  to  bear  their  on- 
set or  to  gain  your  object,  if  it  is  your  intention  to  succour 
our  friends  by  driving  off  their  assailants.  For  our  numbers 
are  not  sufficient  against  so  many.  Surely  it  were  better  to 
let  these  men  —  surrounded  as  they  are  by  our  foes  —  perish 
than  for  thee  to  get  encompassed  by  the  Turks.  For,  in  that 
case,  the  very  hope  of  Christendom  would  perish,  and  the 
mainstay  of  all  our  confidence  fall.  We  deem  it  the  wiser 
counsel  to  secure  your  safety  and  decline  the  fight." 

To  their  persuasion  the  king  replied,  changing  colour : 
"When  I  sent  my  loved  comrades  out  to  war  it  was  with  the 
promise  of  bringing  them  aid.  And  if  I  fail  to  do  this,  so  far 
as  I  can,  I  shall  deceive  those  who  trusted  to  me.  And  should 
they  meet  with  death  in  my  absence  —  which  I  pray  may  never 
happen  —  never  more  will  I  bear  the  name  of  king."  Utter- 
ing no  more  words  he  spurred  forward  his  steed,  bursting 
upon  the  Turks  with  wonderful  fury,  by  his  vigorous  onset 
scattering  their  close  ranks  like  a  thunderbolt,  and  laying 
many  low  by  the  mere  vigour  of  his  movements.  Then,  turn- 
ing back  to  his  own  men,  he  scattered  the  whole  body  of  the 


74  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

enemy,  brandishing  his  sword,  going  hither  and  thither,  back- 
wards and  forwards,  bold  as  a  Hon.  .  .  .  Amongst  others,  he 
smote  and  slew  a  certain  emir  of  gigantic  strength  and  great 
fame,  Ar-al-chais  by  name.  Why  recount  details  ?  When  the 
enemy  had  been  routed  and  pursued  our  men  returned  to 
their  own  quarters  with  very  many  captives.  Thus  was  the 
battle  waged  on  this  day  without  any  aid  from  the  French. 
On  the  same  day  three  Turkish  apostates,  renouncing  their 
vain  superstition  and  becoming  Christians,  submitted  to  King 
Richard  —  it  may  be  through  fear  of  death. 


Number  i^ 
THE  WINNING  OF  THE  GREAT  CHARTER 

Kate  Norgate.  Jolui  Lackland,  pp.  211-234,  passim. 

.  .  .'On  August  25,  1 21 3,  he  [Archbishop  Stephen  of  Can- 
terbury] had  gathered  the  bishops,  abbots  and  other  ecclesi- 
astical dignitaries,  with  some  of  the  lay  magnates,  around  him 
in  S.  Paul's  cathedral  that  they  might  receive  his  instructions 
concerning  a  partial  relaxation  of  the  interdict,  which  he  was 
empowered  to  grant,  pending  the  arrival  of  the  legate.  It 
was  said  that  he  had  afterwards  called  aside  the  lay  members 
of  the  assembly  to  a  secret  meeting  in  which  he  laid  before 
them  a  yet  weightier  matter.  '"  Ye  have  heard  "  — thus  he 
was  reported  to  have  addressed  them  —  "how,  when  I  ab- 
solved the  king  at  Winchester,  I  made  him  swear  to  put  down 
bad  laws  and  enforce  throughout  his  realm  the  good  laws 
of  Edward,  Now,  there  has  been  found  also  a  certain  charter 
of  King  Henry  I.^  by  which,  if  ye  will,  ye  may  recall  to  their 

1  For  the  charter  of  Henry  I,  see  Number  g  above. 


THE  WINNING  OF  THE  GREAT  CHARTER       75 

former  estate  the  liberties  which  ye  have  so  long  lost."  —  ... 
"And  when  this  charter  had  been  read  through  and  interpreted 
to  the  barons,  they  rejoiced  with  very  great  joy,  and  all  swore 
in  the  archbishop's  presence  that  when  they  saw  a  fitting  time 
they  would  fight  for  those  liberties,  if  it  were  needful,  even 
unto  death  ;  the  archbishop,  too,  promised  them  his  most 
faithful  help  to  the  utmost  of  his  power.  And,  a  confederacy 
being  thus  made  between  them,  the  conference  was  dissolved." 
This  story  is  given  by  Roger  of  Wendover  ^  only  as  a  rumour  ; 
but  whether  the  rumour  were  literally  true  or  not,  it  was  at 
any  rate  founded  upon  a  fact :  the  fact  that  the  movement 
which  was  to  result  in  the  Great  Charter  owed  its  true  im- 
pulse to  the  patriotism,  as  it  owed  its  success  to  the  statesman- 
ship, not  of  any  of  the  barons,  but  of  Stephen  Langton. 

.  .  .  England  in  the  sixteenth  year  of  King  John  was  suffer- 
ing under  an  accumulation  of  grievances  consisting,  as  Ralph 
of  Coggeshair-^  truly  says,  of  all  "  the  evil  customs  which  the 
king's  father  and  brother  had  raised  up  for  the  oppression  of 
the  Church  and  realm,  together  with  the  abuses  which  the 
king  himself  had  added  thereto."  No  doubt  these  last  formed 
the  worst  part  of  the  evil,  and  it  was  the  addition  of  them 
that  gave  such  an  increase  of  bitterness  to  all  the  rest,  .  .  . 

Again,  the  corrupt  administration  of  the  sheriffs  had  been 
matter  of  complaint  under  Henry  ;  but  it  was  far  worse  under 
John  ;  for  whereas  Henry,  and  after  him  Hubert  Walter  acting 
for  Richard,  had  endeavoured  by  various  means  to  check  the 
independent  action  and  curtail  the  powers  of  the  sheriffs,  now 
the  king  himself  was  almost  openly  in  league  with  those 
officers,  and  their  usurpations  and  extortions  were  not  merely 

1  Roger  of  Wendover  was  the  compiler  of  the  "  Flowers  of  History,"  a  chronicle 
written  at  the  Abbey  of  St.  Albans.  He  gives  a  contemporary  account  of  the  events 
of  this  period. 

2  Ralph  of  Coggeshall  was  abbot  of  the  Cistercian  Abbey  of  Coggeshall.  His 
"  Chronicon  Anglicanum  "  gives  a  contemporary  account  of  the  reign  of  John. 


76  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH   HISTORY 

condoned,  but  encouraged,  if  not  even  directly  instigated,  by 
him  for  his  own  interest.  .  .   . 

The  whole  judicial  administration  of  the  realm  was  corrupt. 
There  was  very  distinctly  one  law  for  the  rich  and  another 
for  the  poor.  Justice  was  sold,  delayed,  or  refused  altogether, 
at  the  king's  will.   .  .   . 

.    The  exactions  and  usurpations  of  the  Crown  were  of  the 
most  various  kinds,  and  affected  every  class  of  society.   .   .   . 

The  only  class  which  was  as  yet  capable  of  making  any 
corporate  opposition  or  protest  was  the  baronage  ;  and  hitherto 
the  discontent  of  the  barons  had  shown  itself  only  in  the  re- 
sistance of  some  of  their  number  to  the  king's  demands  on 
certain  special  occasions  and  in  reference  to  certain  special 
points   which  affected   them   personally  as   tenants-in-chief. 
But  there  was  now  one  man  in  England  who  looked  at  the 
questions  at  issue  between  them  and  the  king  from  a  higher 
standpoint  than  theirs,  and  in  whose  eyes  those  questions 
were  only  small  parts  of  a  much  wider  and  deeper  question, 
on  the  solution  of  which  he  had  set  his  mind  from  the  very 
hour  of  his  landing  in  the  realm.    One  chronicler  relates 
that  John's  first  impulse  on  hearing  of  Archbishop  Stephen's 
arrival  in  England  had  been  to  withdraw  himself  to  some 
remote  place  and  put  off  their  meeting  as  long  as  possible, 
and  that  he  had  only  been  induced  to  abandon  this  intention 
by  the  remonstrances  of  some  of  the  barons.    Whether  this 
particular  story  be  true  or  not,  it  seems  plain  that  John's  con- 
duct throughout  his  quarrel  with  the  Church  was  to  a  great 
extent  dictated  by  personal  dislike  to  the  archbishop.    This 
feeling  must  have  been  mainly  instinctive  ;  for  the  two  men 
had  never  seen  each  other  till  they  met  at  Winchester  on 
July  20,   12 1 3.     The  instinct,  however,  was  a  true  one:  it 
was  Stephen  Eangton  who  was  to  give  the  first  impulse  to 
the  work  which  was  destined  —  though  not  till  long  after 


THE  WINNINC;  OF    THE  {}REAT  CHARTER       77 

he  had  passed  away  —  to  make  the  rule  of  such  a  king  as 
John  impossible  for  evermore. 

The  archbishop  was  determined  to  be  satisfied  with  nothing 
short  of  a  literal  fulfilment  of  the  promise  on  which  he  had 
insisted  as  a  condition  of  the  king's  absolution,  the  promise 
that  to  "  all  men  "  their  rights  should  be  restored.  He  saw 
that  this  end  could  be  gained  only  by  the  instrumentality  of 
the  barons  ;  he  also  saw  that  it  could  be  gained  only  by  a 
policy  based  on  clearer  and  firmer,  as  well  as  broader  and 
nobler,  lines  than  any  of  them  were  capable  of  designing. 
They,  indeed,  had  no  definite  scheme  of  policy  ;  nor  had 
they  any  leader  able  to  furnish  them  with  such  a  scheme. 
.  .  .  Another  guide  offered  himself  to  them  in  the  person 
of  Stephen  Langton,  and  offered  to  them  at  the  same  time 
a  definite  basis  of  action  in  the  charter  of  Henry  I.  Whether 
the  offer  was  made  at  the  meeting  in  S.  Paul's  in  August 
121 3,  or  at  some  later  date  and  in  some  other  way,  is  of  little 
consequence  ;  it  is  enough  that  antecedent  probability  and 
after-history  alike  justify  the  general  belief  of  which  Roger 
of  Wendover  is  the  spokesman  :  —  that  it  was  Langton  who 
brought  to  light  the  charter  of  which  the  very  existence 
seems  to  have  been  forgotten,  and  it  was  from  him  that  the 
barons  adopted  it  as  the  basis  of  their  demands. 

The  step  which  they  took  in  so  doing  was  weightier  than, 
probably,  they  themselves  had  any  idea  of.  .  .  .  For  the 
greater  purpose  which  Langton  had  in  view,  the  value  of 
the  charter  lay  in  its  opening  of  the  way  to  wider  reforms 
by  the  incidental  claims  which  bound  the  tenants-in-chief  to 
extend  to  their  sub-tenants  the  same  benefits  which  they 
themselves  received  from  the  king,  arid  in  the  comprehensive 
sentence  which  declared  the  abolition  of  "all  evil  customs 
whereby  the  realm  was  unjustly  oppressed."  The  more 
thoughtful  among  the  confederate  barons  may  perhaps  by  this 


78  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

time  have  begun  to  see  that,  even  from  a  selfish  point  of  view, 
they  had  nothing  to  lose,  and  might  have  something  to  gain, 
by  identifying  their  cause  with  that  of  the  nation  as  a  whole. 
.  .  .  But  whatever  the  barons  may  have  thought  about 
these  matters,  the  king  was  statesman  enough  to  see  as  clearly 
as  the  primate  how  weighty  and  far-reaching  might  be  the 
consequences  involved  in  the  demand  for  a  renewal  of  the 
charter.  He  therefore  postponed  its  discussion  till  after 
Christmas. 

Such  is  the  brief  statement  of  the  Barnwell  annalist.  In 
its  stead  Roger  of  Wendover  gives  us  a  dramatic  scene  in 
S.  Edmund's  abbey.  "  The  earls  and  barons  of  England," 
he  tells  us,  came  together  in  that  sanctuary,  "  as  if  for  prayer  ; 
but  there  was  something  else  in  the  matter,  for  after  they  had 
held  much  secret  discourse,  there  was  brought  forth  in  their 
midst  the  charter  of  King  Henry  I.,  which  the  same  barons 
had  received  in  London,  as  hath  been  before  said,  from  Arch- 
bishop Stephen  of  Canterbury.  Then  they  went  all  together 
to  the  church  of  S.  Edmund  the  King  and  Martyr,  and  be- 
ginning with  the  eldest,  they  swore  on  the  high  altar  that  if 
the  king  sought  to  evade  their  demand  for  the  laws  and  lib- 
erties which  that  charter  contained,  they  would  make  war  upon 
him  and  withdraw  from  fealty  to  him  till  he  should,  by  a 
charter  furnished  with  his  seal,  confirm  to  them  all  that  they 
demanded.  They  also  agreed  that  after  Christmas  they  would 
go  all  together  to  the  king,  and  ask  him  for  a  confirmation 
of  the  aforesaid  liberties  ;  and  that  meanwhile  they  would  so 
provide  themselves  with  horses  and  arms  that  if  the  king 
should  seek  to  break  his  oath,  they  might  by  seizing  his  castles 
compel  him  to  make  satisfaction.  And  when  these  things 
were  done  they  returned  every  man  to  his  own  home." 

...   He   [John]   kept  Christmas  at  Worcester,   and   re- 
turned to  London  at  the  opening  of  the  new  year.    There,  at 


'[HE  WINNING  OF  THE  GREAT  CHARTER       79 

Epiphany,  the  confederate  barons  came  to  him  in  a  body, 
"  in  somewhat  showy  military  array,"  and  prayed  him  "  that 
certain  laws  and  liberties  of  King  Edward,  with  other  liberties 
granted  to  them  and  to  the  English  Church  and  realm,  might 
be  confirmed,  as  they  were  written  in  the  charter  of  King 
Henry  I.  and  the  laws  aforesaid  ;  moreover  they  declared 
that  at  the  time  of  his  absolution  at  Winchester,  he  had 
promised  those  ancient  laws  and  liberties,  and  thus  he  was 
bound  by  his  own  oath  to  the  observance  of  the  same."  John 
cautiously  answered  that  "  the  matter  which  they  sought 
was  great  and  difficult,  wherefore  he  asked  for  a  delay  till 
the  close  of  Easter,  that  he  might  consider  how  to  satisfy 
both  their  demands  and  the  dignity  of  his  crown."    .   ,   . 

...  At  length  John — secure  in  the  consciousness  tliat  he 
could  refuse  every  petition  on  the  plea  that  it  was  not  just  — 
authorized  his  commissioners  to  demand  of  the  barons,  in  his 
name,  a  categorical  statement  of  the  laws  and  liberties  which 
they  desired. 

This  message  was  delivered  to  the  insurgents  by  the  pri- 
mate and  the  Marshal,  at  Brackley,  on  Monday,  April  27  — 
the  day  after  that  originally  fixed  for  the  meeting  of  the  bar- 
ons and  the  king.  "  Then  they  [the  barons]  presented  to  the 
envoys  a  certain  schedule,  which  consisted  for  the  most  part 
of  ancient  laws  and  customs  of  the  realm,  declaring  that  if 
the  king  did  not  at  once  grant  these  things  and  confirm  them 
with  his  seal,  they  would  compel  him  by  force."  .  .  .  Lang- 
ton  and  the  Marshal  carried  it  back  to  the  king,  who  was  now 
in  Wiltshire.  One  bv  one  the  articles  were  read  out  to  him 
by  the  primate.  John  listened  with  a  scornful  smile  :  "  Why 
do  these  barons  not  ask  for  my  kingdom  at  once }  "  he  said. 
"Their  demands  are  idle  dreams,  without  a  shadow  of  reason." 
Then  he  burst  into  a  fuiy,  and  swore  that  he  would  never 
grant  to  them  liberties  which  would  make  himself  a  slave.    In 


8o  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

vain  the  archbishop  and  the  Marshal  endeavoured  to  persuade 
him  to  yield  ;  he  only  bade  them  go  back  to  the  barons  and 
repeat  ever)'  word  that  he  had  said.  They  performed  their 
errand  ;  and  the  barons  immediately  sent  to  the  king  a  formal 
renunciation  of  their  homage  and  fealty,  and  chose  for  them- 
selves a  captain-general  in  the  person  of  Robert  Fitz-Walter, 
to  whom  they  gave  the  title  of  "  Marshal  of  the  army  of  God 
and  Holy  Church."  They  then  marched  back  to  Northampton, 
occupied  the  town  and  laid  siege  to  the  castle. 

The  king  was  not  behindhand  in  his  preparations  for  war. 
His  friends  were  already  mustering.  .  .  .  Orders  were  issued 
for  strengthening  the  fortifications  of  London,  Oxford,  Nor- 
wich, Bristol  and  Salisbury.  The  earls  of  Salisbury,  Warren, 
Pembroke  and  others  perambulated  the  country  to  see  that 
the  royal  castles  were  properly  fortified  and  manned  ;  help 
was  summoned  from  Flanders  and  from  Poitou.  .  .  .  Mean- 
while the  "  northern  "  barons  had  found  Northampton  castle 
too  strong  to  be  taken  without  military  engines  which  they 
did  not  possess  ;  so  at  the  end  of  a  fortnight  they  had  raised 
the  siege  and  moved  on  to  Bedford.  Here  the  castle  was 
given  up  to  them  by  its  commandant,  William  de  Beauchamp. 
Their  forces  were  rapidly  increasing  in  number  ;  the  younger 
men  especially,  sons  and  nephews  of  the  greater  barons, 
joined  them  readily,  "  wishing  to  make  for  themselves  a  name 
in  war  "  ;  the  elder  magnates  for  the  most  part,  clave  to  the 
king  "as  their  lord."   .   .   . 

John  knew,  however,  that  the  game  was  lost.  .  .  .  The 
king  was  almost  deserted ;  at  one  moment  he  is  said  to  have 
had  only  seven  knights  left  in  his  suite  ;  the  sessions  of  the 
Exchequer  and  of  the  sheriff's  courts  throughout  the  country 
had  ceased,  because  no  one  would  pay  him  anything  or  obey 
him  in  any  matter.  .  .  .  Finally  he  despatched  William  the 
Marshal  and  some  other  trusty  envoys  to  tell  the  barons  in 


THE  WINNING  OF  THE  GREAT  CHARTER       8 1 

London  "  that  for  the  sake  of  peace  and  for  the  welfare  and 
honour  of  his  realm,  he  would  freely  concede  to  them  the  laws 
and  liberties  which  they  asked  ;  and  that  they  might  appoint 
a  place  and  day  for  him  and  them  to  meet,  for  the  settlement 
of  all  these  things."  The  messengers  "  guilelessly  performed 
the  errand  which  had  been  guilefully  imposed  upon  them  "  ; 
and  the  barons,  '"  buoyed  up  with  immense  joy,"  fixed  the 
meeting  to  take  place  on  June  1 5  in  a  meadow  between 
Staines  and  Windsor,  called  Runnimead. 

There  on  the  appointed  morning,  the  two  parties  pitched 
their  tents  at  a  little  distance  from  each  other  on  the  long 
reach  of  level  grass-land  which  stretched  along  the  river-bank. 
The  barons  came,  "with  a  multitude  of  most  illustrious 
knights,  all  thoroughly  well  armed."  "'  It  is  useless,"  says 
another  chronicler,  "  to  enumerate  those  who  were  present  on 
the  side  of  the  barons,  for  they  comprised  well-nigh  all  the 
nobility  of  England."  With  the  king  were  the  archbishops 
of  Canterbury  and  Dublin,  seven  bishops,  Pandulf  —  who  had 
been  sent  back  to  England  as  the  Pope's  representative  ,  .  . 
—  the  Master  of  the  English  Templars,  the  earls  of  Pem- 
broke, Salisbury,  Warren  and  Arundel,  and  about  a  dozen 
barons  of  lesser  degree,  including  Hubert  de  Burgh.  It  was 
to  these  chosen  few,  and  above  all  to  the  first  of  them,  that 
John  really  capitulated.  His  declaration  that  he  granted  the 
Great  Charter  b\-  their  counsel  may  well  have  been  true  of 
them  all ;  his  most  devoted  adherents  could,  if  they  had  any 
political  sagacity,  advise  him  nothing  else  for  his  own  interest. 
The  terms  of  capitulation,  however,  imply  more  than  this. 
Nominally,  the  treaty  —  for  it  was  nothing  less  —  was  based 
upon  a  set  of  forty-nine  articles  "  which  the  barons  demanded 
and  the  lord  king  granted."  But  those  articles  are  obviously  not 
the  composition  of  "  the  barons  "  mustered  under  Robert  Fitz- 
Waltcr.     livery  step  of  tlic  proceedings  of  these  insurgents 


82  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH   HISTORY 

up  to  that  moment,  every  step  of  their  proceedings  after- 
wards, as  well  as  everything  that  is  known  of  the  character  of 
their  leaders,  goes  to  show  that  they  were  no  more  capable  of 
rising  to  the  lofty  conception  embodied  in  the  Charter  —  the 
conception  of  a  contract  between  king  and  people  which 
should  secure  equal  rights  to  every  class  and  every  individual 
in  the  nation  —  than  they  were  capable  of  formulating  it  in 
the  minute  detail  and  the  carefully  chosen  phraseology  of  the 
Charter  or  even  of  the  Articles.  The  true  history  of  the  treaty 
of  Runnimead  is  told  in  one  brief  sentence  by  Ralph  of 
Coggeshall :  "By  the  intervention  of  the  archbishop  of  Can- 
terbury, with  several  of  his  fellow-bishops  and  some  barons,  a 
sort  of  peace  was  made."  In  other  words,  the  terms  were 
drawn  up  by  Stephen  Langton  with  the  concurrence  of  the 
other  bishops  who  were  at  hand,  and  of  the  few  lay  barons,  on 
either  side,  who  were  statesmen  enough  to  look  at  the  crisis 
from  a  higher  standpoint  than  that  of  personal  interest ;  they 
were  adopted  —  for  the  moment  —  by  the  mass  of  the  insur- 
gents as  being  a  weapon,  far  more  effective  than  any  that 
they  could  have  forged  for  themselves,  for  bringing  the  strug- 
gle with  the  king  ( so  at  least  they  hoped )  to  an  easy  and  a 
speedy  end  ;  and  they  were  accepted  —  also  for  the  moment 
—  by  John,  as  his  readiest  and  surest  way  of  escape  from  a 
position  of  extreme  difficulty  and  peril.  Thus  before  night- 
fall the  Great  Charter  was  sealed ;  and  in  return  John  received 
anew  the  homage  of  the  barons  who  had  defied  him. 


THE  GREAT  CHARTER,  1215  83 

Nti}7iber  i^ 
THE  GREAT  CHARTER,   1215 

F.  C.  MoNTAfUJK.    Elements  of  English   Constitutional  History,  pp.  53-57. 

The  whole  of  the  constitutional  history  of  England,  it  has 
been  said,  is  a  commentary  on  this  charter.  It  consists  of 
sixty-three  articles,  which  differ  greatly  in  length  and  in  im- 
portance, and  which  are  not  arranged  in  any  regular  order ; 
but  its  principal  provisions  may  be  brought  under  a  few  heads. 

I,  The  CJuircJi.  — ^  John,  we  have  seen,  had  already  granted 
freedom  of  election  to  the  clergy.  He  now  confirmed  the 
grant,  thus  parting  with  a  power  which  his  predecessors 
had  enjoyed  since  the  Conquest.  He  also  confirmed  to  the 
Church  all  her  other  liberties.  The  barons  could  not  ask  less 
for  the  clergy  who  had  supported  them,  and  John  could  not 
offer  less,  as  he  depended  on  the  assistance  of  the  Pope. 

n.  The  Te?ia?its-in-ehief.  —  The  king  undertook  not  to 
abuse  his  feudal  rights  so  as  to  extract  from  his  tenants-in- 
chicf  more  than  was  due.  (i)  No  tenant-in-chief  was  to  be 
called  upon  for  more  than  the  regular  service.  (2)  Upon  the 
death  of  the  tenant,  his  heir  was  to  succeed  on  payment  of 
a  fixed  relief.  (3)  If  the  heir  was  a  minor,  the  king  was  to 
act  honestly  as  his  guardian,  not  taking  more  than  the  cus- 
tomary payments  and  services  from  those  who  lived  upon  the 
estate,  nor  wasting  the  buildings  and  enclosures.  (4)  If  the 
king  chose  a  husband  or  wife  for  the  heir,  he  was  to  choose 
a  person  of  suitable  rank.  The  king  was  not  to  compel  any 
widow  to  marry.  (5)  No  scutage  or  aid  was  to  be  levied 
without  the  consent  of  the  common  council  of  the  realm, 
except  in  the  three  customary  cases  —  to  ransom  the  king's 
person,  to  marry  his  eldest  daughter,  and  to  make  his  eldest 
son  a  knight. 


84  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

When  the  consent  of  the  common  council  of  the  realm 
was  required  for  an  extraordinary  aid,  the  king  was  to  sum- 
mon all  his  tenants-in-chief ;  the  archbishops,  bishops,  earls, 
and  greater  barons  singly  by  letters  addressed  to  each,  and 
the  other  tenants-in-chief  by  a  general  summons  sent  to  the 
sheriff  of  each  county.  Forty  days'  notice  was  to  be  given, 
and  the  place  of  meeting  and  the  causes  of  summons  were  to 
be  expressly  stated. 

III.  The  Rights  of  Cities  and  Tozvns.  —  To  London,  and 
to  all  other  cities,  boroughs,  and  ports,  the  king  guaranteed 
all  their  ancient  liberties. 

IV.  Administration  of  Jtistice.  —  The  king  promised  (i) 
that  the  administration  of  justice  should  no  longer  be  made 
a  source  of  gain  to  the  Crown.  "  To  no  man  will  we  sell,  to 
no  man  will  we  deny  or  delay,  right  or  justice."  (2)  That  no 
man  should  be  punished  without  due  trial.  "  No  free  man 
shall  be  taken,  or  imprisoned,  disseised,  or  outlawed,  or 
exiled,  or  in  any  way  destroyed,  nor  will  we  go  upon  him, 
or  send  upon  him,  save  by  the  lawful  judgment  of  his  peers 
or  the  law  of  the  land."  Lawful  judgment  of  his  peers  was 
afterwards  construed  to  mean  trial  by  jury,  but  it  is  now 
agreed  that  the  words  do  not  bear  this  meaning.  (3)  That 
unreasonable  and  oppressive  fines  should  no  longer  be  im- 
posed. Fines  were  to  be  proportioned  to  the  offence,  so  as 
not  to  take  from  the  freeholder  his  land,  from  the  merchant 
his  merchandise,  or  from  the  villein  his  wainage  (i.e.,  farm- 
ing stock).  (4)  That  suitors  who  came  to  have  their  private 
disputes  determined  in  the  King's  court  should  not  be  put  to 
the  inconvenience  of  following  him  wherever  he  happened 
to  be.  Such  suits  (called  common  pleas)  were  to  be  heard  in 
some  fixed  place.  This  led  to  the  establishment  of  a  new 
branch  of  the  King's  court,  distinct  from  the  King's  Bench, 
and  known  as  the  Court  of  Common  Pleas.   This,  the  second 


THE  GREAT  CHARTER,   1215  85 

court  of  common  law,  continued  to  exist  until  the  year  1873. 
(5)  That  the  judges  should  go  circuit  four  times  a  year  to 
decide  questions  of  title  to  property. 

V.  The  Forests.  —  All  forests  made  since  the  accession  of 
John  were  to  be  disforested.  In  every  county  twelve  knights 
were  to  be  chosen  and  sworn  to  inquire  into  the  evil  customs 
in  force  in  the  forests.  All  such  customs  reported  by  them 
were  to  be  annulled  within  forty  days. 

VI.  Miscellaneous.  —  (i)  In  time  of  peace  all  merchants 
were  to  be  free  to  come  to  England,  to  stay  in  England,  and 
to  leave  England  without  being  subjected  to  extortion  of  any 
kind.  (2)  No  servant  of  the  king  was  to  take  the  horses  or 
carts  of  any  free  man  for  the  king's  ser\dce  without  the 
owner's  leave,  or  to  take  the  corn  or  goods  of  any  man  with^ 
out  paying  for  them.  (3)  One  system  of  weights  and  meas- 
ures was  to  be  established  throughout  the  kingdom. 

The  charter  concludes  with  a  singular  provision  intended 
to  secure  its  observance.  The  king  empowered  the  barons 
to  choose  twenty-five  of  tHeir  number  to  watch  over  its  ob- 
servance. Any  four  out  of  the  twenty-five  might  demand  re- 
dress for  any  infringement  of  the  charter  from  the  king,  or, 
if  he  were  absent,  from  the  justiciar.  If  redress  was  not 
granted  within  forty  days,  the  twenty-five  barons  were  author- 
ised to  put  constraint  upon  the  king  by  seizing  his  lands  and 
castles,  or  by  any  other  means,  saving  always  the  liberty  of 
himself,  his  queen,  and  children. 

Observations  upon  the  Great  Charter.  —  The  following 
points  deserve  special  notice  :  — 

(i)  The  demand  for  the  Great  Charter  was  made  virtually 
by  the  whole  nation.  The  barons  took  the  leading  part,  but 
they  were  supported  by  London  and  the  other  towns.  In 
former  times  the  common  people  had  supported  the  king 
against  the  barons  ;  they  now  supported  the  barons  against 


86  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

the  king.  From  this  fact  we  may  infer  how  much  Henry  II. 
had  weakened  the  power  of  the  nobles  and  increased  the 
power  of  the  Crown.  We  may  also  infer  that  the  barons  were 
now  fighting  for  the  interest  of  the  whole  nation,  not,  as  in 
former  times,  for  their  private  advantage.  The  clerg)'  could 
not  openly  take  part  with  the  barons,  for  John  was  now  a 
vassal  of  the  Pope,  and  under  his  protection.  But  Archbishop 
Langton  had  helped  the  barons  to  put  their  grievances  into 
a  precise  form,  by  suggesting  that  they  should  ask  for  the 
observ'ance  of  the  charter  of  Henry  I.  There  is  little  doubt 
that  the  secret  sympathy  of  the  clergy  was  with  the  people. 
Even  the  few  English  nobles  who  followed  John  to  the  last 
approved  of  the  Great  Charter. 

(2)  As  the  barons  were  speaking  for  the  nation,  so  they 
demanded  justice,  not  for  themselves  only,  but  for  all  con- 
ditions of  men.  By  the  Great  Charter  all  the  privileges  which 
the  king  granted  to  his  tenants-in-chief  were  to  be  granted  by 
the  tenants-in-chief  to  their  vassals.  All  free  men  were  en- 
sured against  injustice  and  oppression.  Even  for  the  class 
which  was  not  free,  the  villein  class,  it  was  provided  that  their 
stock  should  not  be  taken  by  way  of  fine.  The  freedom  prom- 
ised to  the  towns  and  the  lessening  of  the  royal  forests  were 
especially  beneficial  to  the  middle  and  lower  classes. 

(3)  Although  John  said  that  to  grant  the  demands  of  the 
barons  would  be  giving  away  his  crown,  their  demands  were 
remarkably  moderate.  They  made  scarcely  a  single  demand 
for  which  there  was  not  a  precedent.  Their  scheme  of  re- 
dress was  based  upon  the  charter  granted  by  so  despotic  a 
prince  as  Henry  I.  They  did  not  endeavour  to  set  up  a  new 
constitution.  They  only  asked  for  righteous  government  on 
the  old  principles.  It  is  true  that  John  drove  them  to  ask 
with  arms  in  their  hands,  and  that  the  precedent  of  success- 
ful resistance  to  the  king  had  immeasurable  consequences. 


THE  SIGNIFICANCE  OF  MAGNA  CHARTA       87 

But  the  barons  had  not  resorted  to  force  until  John  con- 
vinced them  that  they  would  not  get  redress  in  any  other  way. 
(4)  The  Great  Charter  left  the  King  still  supreme  in  the 
state.  It  was  only  for  the  purpose  of  obtaining  an  extraor- 
dinary aid  that  the  King  was  bound  to  summon  a  great  coun- 
cil. This  great  council,  too,  was  strictly  on  the  feudal  model. 
It  was  to  include  all  the  tenants-in-chief,  and  the  tenants-in- 
chief  only.  Such  a  council  was  rarely  called  either  before  or 
after  the  date  of  the  Great  Charter.  It  would  have  been  too 
large  for  business  and  too  narrow  for  representation.  The 
kings  of  England  had  usually  summoned  only  their  greater 
tenants  to  advise  them  in  council.  Only  the  greater  tenants 
were  entitled,  under  the  Great  Charter,  to  a  separate  sum- 
mons. The  barons  found  in  the  next  reign  that,  if  they  were 
to  curb  the  king,  they  must  associate  with  themselves  the 
representatives  of  the  commons.  In  the  struggle  for  the 
observance  of  the  Great  Charter  the  English  Parliament  had 
its  origin. 

Number  16 
THE  SIGNIFICANCE  OF  MAGNA  CHARTA 

William  Pitt,  Earl  of  Chatham.  Excerpts  from  speeches  delivered  in 
the  House  of  Lords.  Chauncey  A.  Goodrich,  Select  British  Eloquence, 
pp.  112,  113,  115.    For  Chatham,  see  Number  62. 


The  Constitution  has  its  Political  Bible,  by  which,  if  it  be 
fairly  consulted,  every  political  question  may,  and  ought  to  be 
determined.  Magna  Charta,  the  Petition  of  Rights,  and  the 
Bill  of  Rights,  form  that  code  which  I  call  the  Bible  of  the 
Ens'lisJi  Constitution. 


88  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

II 

...  It  is  to  j/otir  ancestors,  my  Lords,  it  is  to  the  English 
barons,  that  we  are  indebted  for  the  laws  and  Constitution 
we  possess.  Their  virtues  were  rude  and  uncultivated,  but 
they  were  great  and  sincere.  Their  understandings  were  as 
little  polished  as  their  manners,  but  they  had  hearts  to  distin- 
guish right  from  wrong ;  they  had  heads  to  distinguish  truth 
from  falsehood  ;  they  understood  the  rights  of  humanity,  and 
they  had  spirit  to  maintain  them. 

My  Lords,  I  think  that  history  has  not  done  justice  to 
their  conduct,  when  they  obtained  from  their  sovereign  that 
great  acknowledgment  of  national  rights  contained  in  Magna 
Charta :  they  did  not  confine  it  to  themselves  alone,  but 
delivered  it  as  a  common  blessing  to  the  whole  people.  They 
did  not  say,  these  are  the  rights  of  the  great  barons,  or  these 
are  the  rights  of  the  great  prelates.  No,  my  I^ords,  they  said, 
in  the  simple  Latin  of  the  times,  "  nullus  liber  homo  "  [no 
free  man],  and  provided  as  carefully  for  the  meanest  subject 
as  for  the  greatest.  These  are  uncouth  words,  and  sound  but 
poorly  in  the  ears  of  scholars  ;  neither  are  they  addressed  to 
the  criticism  of  scholars,  but  to  the  hearts  of  free  men.  These 
three  words,  "  nullus  liber  homo,"  have  a  meaning  which 
interests  us  all.  They  deserve  to  be  remembered  —  they  de- 
serve to  be  inculcated  in  our  minds  —  ///rj/  are  worth  all  the 
classics.  Let  us  not,  then,  degenerate  from  the  glorious  ex- 
ample of  our  ancestors.  Those  iron  barons  (for  so  I  may  call 
them  when  compared  with  the  silken  barons  of  modern  days) 
were  the  guardians  of  the  people  ;    .  .  . 

.  .  .  There  is  one  ambition,  at  least,  which  I  ever  will 
acknowledge,  which  I  will  not  renounce  but  with  my  life.  It 
is  the  ambition  of  delivering  to  my  posterity  those  rights  of 
freedom  which  I  have  received  from  my  ancestors. 


SIMON  DE  MONTFORT  89 

Number  // 
SIMON  DE  MONTFORT 

Charles  B6mont.  Simon   de  Montfort,   Comte  de  Leicester,  pp.  259-261. 
Translated  by  H.  E.  Tuell. 

Simon  de  Montfort  has  been  variously  regarded  by  histo- 
rians. Exalted  by  some,  severely  judged  by  others,  he  has  at 
least  been  considered  by  all  as  a  man  above  the  ordinary. 
Called  by  circumstances  to  play  a  part  at  a  critical  moment  in 
the  destinies  of  a  great  country,  both  his  character  and  his 
talents  placed  him  in  the  forefront  of  affairs.  Brought  up  in 
France  and  coming  to  England  in  early  manhood,  he  did  not 
long  remain  a  stranger  to  the  passions,  the  ideas,  and  the 
needs  of  his  adopted  country.  He  might,  like  so  many  others, 
have  founded  his  fortune  on  the  royal  favor  and  maintained 
it  by  subservience.  At  first  he  was  successful  at  the  trade  of 
courtier;  but  he  was  born  to  rule,  not  to  serve.  After  a  quarrel 
with  the  King,  his  brother-in-law,  he  took  his  stand  against 
arbitrary  power,  and  soon,  especially  after  his  service  as  Gov- 
ernor of  Gascony,  became  its  determined  enemy.  His  rela- 
tions with  some  of  the  loftiest  spirits  and  purest  characters 
of  the  time  had  a  salutary  influence  upon  him.  His  enmity 
to  Henry  HI  appeared  at  first  to  indicate  immoderate  pride 
or  unsatisfied  ambition,  but  it  really  took  its  rise  in  a  nobler 
sentiment,  a  passion  for  the  public  good.  Before  the  Parlia- 
ment of  Oxford  his  friends  put  all  their  trust  in  him  ;  after 
1258  the  whole  country  looked  to  him  as  the  leader  of  the 
Revolution. 

He  was  then  and  he  remained  the  head  of  a  party.  The 
Revolution  was  started  by  and  in  the  interest  of  the  aristoc- 
racy in  state  and  church  ;  and  its  object  was  to  keep  the  power 
in  the  hands  of  this  aristocracy.    The  Great  Charter  hardly 


90  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

restricted  the  arbitrary  power  of  the  King.  New  guarantees 
were  necessary.  In  his  opinion  the  Parhament  alone  could 
furnish  these  guarantees  by  putting  the  King  in  tutelage.  At 
that  time  the  same  question  was  under  discussion  in  most  of 
the  great  states  of  Europe.  The  kings,  who  wished  to  build 
up  absolute  power  for  their  own  advantage,  were  forced  to 
struggle  against  feudalism.  In  England  the  feudal  system 
was  peculiar,  quite  different  from  the  system  in  Germany  or 
in  France.  The  great  English  nobles,  counts,  and  barons 
were  not  petty  sovereigns  as  they  were  on  the  continent. 
Their  estates  did  not  form,  as  it  were,  separate  states  within 
the  state.  Doubdess  they  had  important  privileges  ;  the  pos- 
session of  numerous  fiefs  gave  them  real  influence,  but  ordi- 
narily these  fiefs  were  widely  scattered,  not  in  compact  groups. 
By  themselves  these  great  lords  had  but  little  political  power. 
They  could  not  rule  unless  they  acted  in  unison  ;  nay  more, 
they  could  not  rule  if  isolated  from  the  rest  of  the  nation. 
Moreover,  the  local  institutions  of  England  made  such  isola- 
tion impossible  :  in  the  counties  ordinary  business  was  trans- 
acted in  the  presence  of  an  assembly  which  included  the  great 
nobles  and  higher  clergy,  and  also  the  representatives  of  the 
lesser  nobles,  the  towns  and  the  country  districts.  It  is  not 
surprising  that  the  same  system  gradually  crept  into  the  Par- 
liament of  the  realm.  Usually  the  Parliament  included  only 
the  prelates  and  great  nobles  of  the  kingdom  ;  usually  the 
county  court  met  without  the  great  nobles  and  prelates  ;  but 
at  times  of  crisis  the  two  orders  came  together.  This  is  what 
took  place  in  1265  :  the  situation  was  peculiarly  difficult  and 
important,  so  the  three  orders  of  the  state  came  together  with 
unusual  solemnity.  It  was  the  force  of  English  institutions 
that  brought  about  this  result,  not  the  will  of  any  one  man. 
Simon  de  Montfort  is  not,  as  has  been  sometimes  said,  the 
founder  of  the  House  of  Commons. 


SIMON  DE  MONTFORT  9 1 

Nevertheless,  however  narrow  his  ideas  of  reform,  he 
served  the  cause  of  EngHsh  hberty  to  the  bitter  end  ;  hke 
Thomas  Becket  he  died  for  it ;  his  martyrdom  certainly  ac- 
complished more  for  the  triumph  of  the  good  cause  than  his 
projects  would  have  brought  to  pass,  even  if  he  had  been  able 
to  carry  them  out  at  leisure.  His  rivals,  his  enemies  even, 
took  up  his  work.  Two  years  after  Evesham,  the  statute  of 
Marlborough  embodied  in  part  the  Provisions  of  Oxford, 
which  thus  became  the  law  of  the  land  instead  of  the  war 
measure  of  a  single  party.  This  was  the  logic  of  events  : 
royalty  must  needs  yield  to  the  desires  of  reform,  that  it 
might  the  better  guide  them.  With  the  fine  instinct  of  a 
born  ruler,  Edward  I  turned  legislator.  He  was  of  those  who 
can  learn  from  revolutions.  Towards  the  end  of  his  reign  he 
introduced  into  the  state  a  new  element ;  after  1295  he  only 
called  Parliaments  made  up  after  the  model  of  the  Parliament 
of  1265.  This  is  the  definite  advent  of  the  third  estate  as  a 
political  power.  To  this,  the  work  of  a  whole  century,  Simon 
de  Montfort,  "  that  great  and  courageous  party  leader,"  gave 
the  decisive  impulse.  Perhaps  without  being  aware  of  it,  he 
created  one  of  the  most  characteristic  precedents  which 
paved  the  way  for  the  slow  evolution  of  England  towards 
political  liberty.  He  created  nothing  else,  but  that  is  enough 
for  his  glory. 


92  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

Number  i8 
THE   LAMENT   OF   EARL  SIMON 

Simon  de  Montfort  and  his  Cause,  pp.  166-168.    Edited  by  W.  H.  Hutton. 
The  authorship  of  this  song  is  unknown.    It  is  one  of  many  political 
songs  written  during  the  Barons'  War. 

1 .  Sing  must  I  now,  my  heart  wills  so, 

Altho'  my  tongue  be  rude, 
With  tearful  thought,  this  song  was  wrought, 

Of  England's  barons  good  : 
Who  for  the  peace,  made  long  ago, 

Went  gladly  to  the  grave. 
Their  bodies  gashed  and  scarred  and  slashed, 

Our  English  land  to  save. 

Refrain.  —  Now  low  there  lies,  the  flower  of  price. 
That  knew  so  much  of  war, 
;  The  Earl  Montfort,  whose  luckless  sort 

The  land  shall  long  deplore. 

2.  On  a  Tuesday,  as  I  heard  say. 

The  battle  it  was  fought, 
From  horseback  all  they  fight  and  fall. 

Of  footmen  had  they  nought. 
Full  cruelly  they  struck  that  day 

All  with  the  brandished  brand, 
But  in  the  end  Sir  Edward's  men 

They  got  the  upper  hand.  Refrain 

3.  But  by  his  death  earl  Simon  hath 

In  sooth  the  victory  won. 
Like  Canterbury's  martyr  he 
There  to  the  death  was  done. 


THE  LAMENT  V¥  EARL  SLMON 

Thomas  the  good,  that  never  would 

Let  holy  Church  be  tried, 
Like  him  he  fought  and  flinching  not 

The  good  earl  like  him  died.  Refrain 


4.  Death  did  they  face  to  keep  in  place 

Both  righteousness  and  peace. 
Wherefore  the  saint  from  sin  and  taint 

Shall  give  their  souls  release  ; 
They  faced  the  grave  that  they  might  save 

The  people  of  this  land, 
For  so  his  will  they  did  fulfill, 

As  we  do  understand.  Refrain 

5.  Next  to  the  skin  when  they  stripped  him 

They  found  a  shirt  of  hair, 
Those  felons  strong  that  wrought  the  wrong, 

And  foully  slew  him  there  ; 
But  worse  their  sin  to  mangle  him, 

A  man  that  was  so  good, 
That  how  to  fight  and  keep  the  right 

So  truly  understood.  Refrain 

6.  Sir  Hugh  the  proud,  Despenser  good, 

That  noble  judge  and  wise, 
So  wrongfully  was  doomed  to  die 

In  very  evil  guise  ; 
Sir  Henry  too,  I  tell  you  true. 

The  earl  of  Lincoln's  son. 
Others  also  earl  Gloucester  slew. 

As  ye  shall  hear  anon.  Refrain 


94 


READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

7.  No  earl  or  lord  but  sore  hath  erred 

And  done  things  men  must  blame, 
Both  squire  and  knight  have  wrought  un-right, 

They  all  are  put  to  shame. 
Through  them,  in  sooth,  both  faith  and  truth 

Are  perished  from  this  land. 
The  wicked  man  unchecked  may  reign 

The  fool  in  folly  stand,  Refrain 


Sir  Simon  now,  that  knight  so  true. 

With  all  his  company. 
Are  gone  above  to  joy  and  love 

In  life  that  cannot  die  ; 
But  may  our  Lord  that  died  on  rood 

And  God  send  succour  yet 
To  them  that  lie  in  misery. 

Fast  in  hard  prison  set ! 


Refrain 


Wherefore  I  pray,  sweet  friends  alway 

Seek  of  Saint  Mary's  Son, 
That  He  may  lead  to  His  high  meed 

Him  that  this  rime  hath  done  ; 
I  will  not  name  the  scholar's  name, 

I  would  not  have  it  known 
For  love  of  Him,  that  saves  from  sin 

Pray  for  clerks  all  and  one. 


Refrain 


DAILY  LIFE  IN  A  MEDI^.VAL  MONASTERY      95 

Number  ig 
DAILY  LIFE  IN  A  MEDI/EVAL  MONASTERY 

Augustus  Jessopp.    The  Coming  of  the  Friars,  and  Other  Historic  Essays, 

chap,  iii,  passim. 

"  Now  I  think  on't, 

They  should  be  good  men  ;  their  affairs  as  righteous : 

But  all  hoods  make  not  monks." 

. 

When  the  monasteries  were  suppressed  by  Henry  VIII. 
there  was  an  utter  obliteration  of  an  order  of  things  which 
had  existed  in  our  island  for  certainly  more  than  a  thousand 
years,  and  how  much  longer  it  is  impossible  to  say.  The 
names  of  religious  houses  which  are  known  to  have  existed 
before  the  Norman  Conquest  count  by  hundreds  ;  the  names 
of  men  and  women  who  presided  over  such  houses  during 
the  centuries  preceding  that  event  count  by  thousands.  Some 
of  these  religious  houses  had  passed  through  the  strangest 
vicissitudes ;  they  had  been  pillaged  again  and  again ;  they 
had  been  burnt  by  Danish  marauders  ;  their  inmates  driven 
out  into  the  wilderness  or  ruthlessly  put  to  the  sword  ;  their 
lands  given  over  to  the  spoiler  or  gone  out  of  cultivation  ; 
their  very  existence  in  some  cases  almost  forgotten  ;  yet  they 
had  revived  again  and  again  from  their  ashes.  When  William 
the  Conqueror  came  among  us,  and  the  stern  rule  of  his  began, 
there  was  scarcely  a  county  in  England  and  Wales  in  which 
one  or  more  religious  houses  were  not  to  be  found,  and  during 
his  reign  of  twenty-one  years  about  thirty  new  monasteries  of 
one  sort  or  another  were  added  to  those  already  existing.  .  .  . 
It  was  natural  enough,  when  society  was  in  a  condition  of 
profound  disorganization,  and  sensuality  and  violence  were  in 
the  ascendant,  that  men  and  women  of  gentle  nature  should 
become  convinced  that  the  higher  life  could  only  be  lived  in 


96  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

lonely  retirement,  far  from  the  sound  of  human  voices  and 
the  contact  of  human  creatures,  whose  very  nearness  almost 
implies  sin.   .   .   . 

In  the  thirteenth  century  (and  I  shall  as  much  as  possible 
confine  myself  to  the  limits  of  that  period),  a  monastery  meant 
what  we  now  understand  it  to  mean — viz.,  the  abode  of  a 
society  of  men  or  women  who  lived  together  in  common  — 
who  were  supposed  to  partake  of  common  meals  ;  to  sleep 
together  in  one  common  dormitory  ;  to  attend  certain  services 
together  in  their  common  church  ;  to  transact  certain  business 
or  pursue  certain  employments  in  the  sight  and  hearing  of 
each  other  in  the  common  cloister  ;  and,  when  the  end  came, 
to  be  laid  side  by  side  in  the  common  graveyard,  where  in 
theory  none  but  members  of  the  order  could  find  a  resting- 
place  for  their  bones.   .   .   . 

A  monastery  in  theory  then  was,  as  it  was  called,  a  Reli- 
gious House.  It  was  supposed  to  be  the  home  of  people 
whose  lives  were  passed  in  the  worship  of  God,  and  in  taking 
care  of  their  own  souls,  and  making  themselves  fit  for  a  better 
world  than  this  hereafter.  As  for  this  world,  it  was  lying  in 
wickedness  ;  if  men  remained  in  this  wicked  world  they  would 
most  certainly  become  contaminated  by  all  its  pollutions  ;  the 
only  chance  of  ever  attaining  to  holiness  lay  in  a  man  or 
woman's  turning  his  back  upon  the  world  and  running  away 
from  it.  It  was  no  part  of  a  monk's  duty  to  reform  the  world ; 
all  he  had  to  do  was  to  look  after  himself,  and  to  save  himself 
from  the  wrath  to  come.  It  is  hardly  overstating  the  case  if 
I  say  that  a  monastery  was  not  intended  to  be  a  benevolent 
institution  ;  and  if  a  great  religious  house  became,  as  it  almost 
inevitably  did  become,  the  centre  of  civilization  and  refine- 
ment, from  which  radiated  light  and  warmth  and  incalculable 
blessings  far  and  wide,  these  results  flowed  naturally  from 
that  growth  and  development  which  the  original  founders 


DAILY  LIFE  IN  A  MEDI.*:VAL  MONASTERY      97 

had  never  looked  forward  to  or  could  have  foreseen,  but  it 
was  never  contemplated  as  an  end  to  be  aimed  at  in  the 
beginning.  Being  a  home  for  religious  men,  whose  main 
business  was  to  spend  their  days  and  nights  in  worshipping 
God,  the  first  requisite,  the  first  and  foremost,  the  sitic  qiia 
non  was,  that  there  should  be  a  church. 

On  the  church  of  a  monastery,  as  a  rule,  no  amount  of 
money  spent,  no  amount  of  lavish  ornament  or  splendour  of 
decoration,  was  grudged.  Sculpture  and  painting,  jewels  and 
gold,  gorgeous  hangings,  and  stained-glass  that  the  moderns 
vainly  attempt  to  imitate,  the  purple  and  fine  linen  of  the 
priestly  vestments,  embroidery  that  to  this  hour  remains 
unapproachable  in  its  delicacy  of  finish  and  in  the  perfect 
harmony  of  colours — all  these  were  to  be  found  in  almost  in- 
credible profusion  in  our  monastic  churches.  You  hear  some 
people  work  themselves  into  a  frenzy  against  the  idolatrous 
worship  of  our  forefathers  ;  but  to  a  monk  of  a  great  monas- 
tery his  church  was  his  idol  —  to  possess  a  church  that  should 
surpass  all  others  in  magnificence,  and  which  could  boast  of 
some  special  unique  glory  —  that  seemed  to  a  monk  some- 
thing worth  living  for.   .   .   . 

The  church  of  a  monastery  was  the  heart  of  the  place. 
It  was  not  that  the  church  was  built  for  the  monastery,  but 
the  monastery  existed  for  the  church  ;  there  were  hundreds 
and  thousands  of  churches  without  monasteries,  but  there 
could  be  no  monastery  without  a  church.  The  monks  were 
always  at  work  on  the  church,  always  spending  money  upon 
it,  always  adding  to  it,  always  "restoring"  it;  it  was  always 
needing  repair.  We  are  in  the  habit  of  saying,  "  Those  old 
monks  knew  how  to  build  ;  look  at  their  work  —  see  how  it 
stands  !  "  But  we  are  very  much  mistaken  if  we  suppose  that 
in  the  twelfth  or  the  thirteenth  or  the  fourteenth  century  there 
was  no  bad  building.     On   the   contrary,   nothing  is   more 


98  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

common  in  the  monastic  annals  than  the  notices  of  how  this 
and  that  tower  fell  down,  and  how  this  and  that  choir  was  fall- 
ing into  ruins,  and  how  this  or  that  abbot  got  into  debt  by  his 
mania  for  building.  There  was  an  everlasting  tinkering  going 
on  at  the  church  ;  and  the  surest  token  that  a  monastery  was 
in  a  bad  way  was  that  its  church  was  in  a  shabby  condition. 

The  church  was,  almost  invariably,  built  in  the  form  of  a 
cross,  facing  east  and  west,  the  long  limb  of  the  cross  being 
called  the  nave,  the  cross  limbs  being  called  the  transepts, 
and  the  shorter  limb,  or  head  of  the  cross,  being  called  the 
choir.  The  choir,  as  a  rule,  was  occupied  exclusively  by  the 
monks  or  nuns  of  the  monastery.  The  servants,  workpeople, 
and  casual  visitors  who  came  to  worship  were  not  admitted 
into  the  choir ;  they  were  supposed  to  be  present  only  on 
sufferance.  The  church  was  built  for  the  use  of  the  monks ; 
it  was  tlieir  private  place  of  worship. 

Almost  as  essential  to  the  idea  of  a  monastery  as  the  church 
was  the  cloister  or  great  quadrangle,  inclosed  on  all  sides  by 
the  high  walls  of  the  monastic  buildings.  Its  usual  position 
was  on  the  south  of  the  church,  to  gain  as  much  of  the  sun's 
rays  as  possible,  and  to  insure  protection  from  the  northerly 
and  easterly  winds  in  the  bitter  season.  All  round  this  quad- 
rangle ran  a  covered  arcade,  whose  roof,  leaning  against  the 
high  walls,  was  supported  on  the  inner  side  by  an  open  trellis 
work  in  stone  —  often  exhibiting  great  beauty  of  design  and 
workmanship  —  through  which  light  and  air  was  admitted 
into  the  arcade.  The  open  space  not  roofed  in  was  called  the 
garth,  and  was  sometimes  a  plain  grass  plat  and  sometimes 
was  planted  with  shrubs,  a  fountain  of  running  water  being 
often  found  in  the  centre,  which  afforded  a  pleasant  object 
for  the  eye  to  rest  on.  The  cloister  was  really  the  living- 
place  of  the  monks.  Here  they  pursued  their  daily  avocations, 
here  they  taught  their  school,  they  transacted  their  business, 


DAILY  LIFE   IN  A  MEDIAEVAL  MONASTERY 


99 


they  spent  their  time  and  pursued  their  studies,  always  in 
society,  co-operating  and  consulting,  and,  as  a  rule,  knowing 
no  privacy. 

"  But  surely  a  monk  always  lived  in  a  cell,  didn't  he  ?  " 

The  sooner  we  get  rid  of  that  delusion  the  better. 

Be  it  understood  that  until  Henry  IL  founded  the  Carthu- 
sian Abbey  of  Witham,  in  1178,  there  was  no  such  thing 
known  in  England  as  a  monk's  cell,  as  we  understand  the 
term.   .   .   . 

The  cloister  arcade  was  said  to  have  four  zualks.  The 
south  walk  ran  along  the  south  wall  of  the  nave,  the  north 
walk  was  bounded  by  the  refectory  or  great  dining  hall,  the 
east  walk  extended  along  the  south  transept,  and  where  the 
transept  ended  there  usually  came  a  narrow  passage  called  a 
slype,  passing  between  the  end  of  the  transept  and  the  chapter- 
house, which  may  be  described  as  the  council-chamber  of  the 
convent.  Beyond  the  chapter-house,  and  abutting  partly  upon 
the  east  wall  of  the  cloister  .  .  .  ran  the  dormitory  or  common 
sleeping-place  for  the  fraternity.   ... 

We  have  been  round  three  sides  of  the  cloister :  on  the 
north  the  church ;  on  the  east  the  chapter-house  and  dor- 
mitory ;  on  the  south  the  refectory.  There  remain  the  build- 
ings abutting  on  the  west  wall.  In  the  arrangement  of  these 
no  strict  rule  was  observed.  But  generally  the  western  build- 
ings were  dedicated  to  the  cellarer's  hall  with  cellars  under 
it,  the  pitanciar's  and  kitchener's  offices  or  chequers  as  they 
were  called,  and  a  guest-chamber  for  the  reception  of  distin- 
guished strangers  and  for  the  duties  of  hospitality,  to  which 
great  impoitancc  was  attached. 

These  were  the  main  buildings,  the  essential  buildings  of 
a  monastery  great  or  small.  .  .  .  You  observe  I  have  as  yet 
said  nothing  about  the  library.  I  must  remind  you  that  in 
the  thirteenth  century  the  number  of  books  in  the  world  was, 


lOO  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

to  say  the  least,  small.  A  library  of  five  hundred  volumes 
would,  in  those  days,  have  been  considered  an  important 
collection,  and,  after  making  all  due  allowances  for  ridiculous 
exaggeration  which  have  been  made  by  ill-informed  writers 
on  the  subject,  it  may  safely  be  said  that  nobody  in  the  thir- 
teenth centur}- — at  any  rate  in  England  —  would  have  erected 
a  large  and  lofty  building  as  a  receptacle  for  books,  simply 
because  nobody  could  have  contemplated  the  possibility  of 
filling  it.  .  .  .  A  library,  in  any  such  sense  as  we  now  under- 
stand the  term,  was  not  only  no  essential  part  of  a  monastery 
in  those  days,  but  it  may  be  said  to  have  been  a  rarit}'. 

But  if  the  thirteenth  century  monastery  possessed  neces- 
sarily no  great  Reading- Room  ;  the  Scriptorium,  or  Writing- 
Room,  was  almost  an  essential  adjunct.  In  the  absence  of 
the  printing-press,  the  demand  for  skilled  writers  and  copyists 
throughout  the  country  was  enormous.  In  the  Scriptorium 
all  the  business,  now  transacted  by  half  a  dozen  agents  and 
their  clerks,  was  carried  on.  The  land  of  the  country-  in  those 
days  was  subdivided  to  an  extent  that  is  now  almost  impos- 
sible for  us  to  realize,  and  the  tenure  under  which  the  small 
patches  of  arable  or  meadow-land  were  held  was  sometimes 
ver)'  complex  and  intricate.  The  small  patches  were  perpetu- 
ally changing  hands,  being  bought  or  sold,  settled  upon 
trustees,  or  let  out  for  a  term  of  years,  and  every  transaction 
would  be  registered  in  the  books  of  the  monastery  interested, 
while  the  number  of  conveyances,  leases,  and  enfeofments 
made  out  in  the  course  of  the  year  was  incalculable.  In  such 
an  abbey  as  that  of  Bury  St.  Edmunds  a  small  army  of  writers 
must  have  been  constantly  employed  in  the  business  depart- 
ment of  the  Scriptorium  alone.  Obviously  it  became  a  great 
writing-school,  where  the  copyists  consciously  or  unconsciously 
wrote  according  to  the  prevailing  fashion  of  the  place  ;  and 
there  have  been,  and  there  are,  experts  who  could  tell  you 


DAILY  LIFE  IN  A  MEDIEVAL  MONASTERY     loi 

whether  this  or  that  document  was  or  was  not  written  in  this 
or  that  monastic  Scriptorium.  Paper  was  very  Uttle  used,  and 
the  vellum  and  parchment  required  constituted  a  heavy  item 
of  expense.  Add  to  this  the  production  of  school-books  and 
all  materials  used  for  carrying  on  the  education  work,  the 
constant  replacement  of  church  service  books  which  the  per- 
petual thumbing  and  fingering  would  subject  to  immense 
wear  and  tear,  the  great  demand  for  music  which,  however 
simple,  required  to  be  written  out  large  and  conspicuous  in 
order  to  be  read  with  ease,  and  you  get  a  rather  serious  list  of 
the  charges  upon  the  stationery  department  of  a  great  abbey. 

But  though  by  far  the  greater  portion  of  work  done  in  the 
Scriptorium  was  mere  office  work,  the  educational  department, 
if  I  may  so  term  it,  being  subsidiary,  it  must  not  be  forgotten 
that  the  literary  and  the  historical  department  also  was  repre- 
sented in  the  Scriptorium  of  every  great  monaster)-.  In  the 
thirteenth  century  men  never  kept  diaries  or  journals  of  their 
own  daily  lives,  but  monasteries  did.  In  theory,  every  reli- 
gious house  recorded  its  own  annals,  or  kept  a  chronicle  of 
great  events  that  were  happening  in  Church  and  State. 
Where  a  monastery  had  kept  its  chronicle  going  for  a  long 
time,  it  got  to  be  regarded  almost  as  a  sacred  book,  and  was 
treated  with  great  veneration  :  it  lay  in  a  conspicuous  place 
in  the  Scriptorium,  and  was  under  the  care  of  an  officer  who 
alone  was  permitted  to  make  entries  in  it.  .  .   . 

I  should  only  confuse  my  readers  if  I  dwelt  more  at  length 
upon  the  buildings  of  a  monaster}^  It  is  enough  for  the 
present  that  we  should  understand  clearly  that  the  essential 
buildings  were  (i)  the  church,  (2)  the  cloister,  {3)  the  dormi- 
tory, (4)  the  refectory,  {5)  the  chapter-house.  In  these  five 
buildings  the  life  of  the  convent  was  carried  on.  Having  said 
thus  much  we  will  pass  on  to  the  corporation  itself  —  that 
which  strictlv  was  called  the  convent ;  and  for  convenience 


I02  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

and  distinctness  it  will  be  as  well  as  if  we  use  that  word 
convent  in  the  more  accurate  sense  and  employ  it  only  as 
signifying  the  corporate  body  of  persons  occupying  those 
buildings  of  which  I  have  been  speaking,  and  which  in  their 
aggregate  were  called  a  monastery.  .   .   . 

The  constitution  of  every  convent,  great  or  small,  was 
monarchical.  The  head  of  the  house  was  almost  an  absolute 
sovereign,  and  was  called  the  Abbot.  His  dominions  often 
extended,  even  in  England,  over  a  very  wide  tract  of  country, 
and  sometimes  over  several  minor  monasteries  which  were 
called  Cells.  Thus  the  Abbot  of  St.  Alban's  had  under  him- 
self the  cell  of  Tynemouth  in  Northumberland  and  two  others 
in  Norfolk — viz.,  Binham  and  Wymondham,  the  latter  of 
which  eventually  became  an  independent  abbey  —  and  the 
heads  of  these  cells  or  subject  houses  were  called  Priors. 
An  addry  was  a  monastery  which  was  independent.  A  priory 
was  a  monastery  which  in  theor}'  or  in  fact  was  subject  to  an 
abbey.  .  .  .  The  abbot  not  only  had  a  separate  residence 
within  the  monastery  and  lived  apart  from  his  monks,  but 
he  had  his  separate  estates  for  the  maintenance  of  his  dignity, 
and  to  bear  the  very  hea\7  expenses  which  that  dignity  neces- 
sitated, and  he  had  the  patronage  of  every  office  in  the 
convent.   .   .  . 

It  looks  as  if  it  were  the  policy  of  the  Benedictines  to  give 
as  many  monks  as  possible  some  special  duty  and  responsi- 
bility —  to  give  each,  in  fact,  a  personal  interest  in  the  pros- 
perity of  the  house  to  which  he  belonged  —  and  the  vacancies 
occurring  from  time  to  time  in  the  various  offices  gave  every- 
body something  to  look  forward  to.  There  was  room  for  ambi- 
tion, and,  I  am  bound  to  add,  room  for  a  good  deal  of  petty 
scheming,  on  the  one  hand,  and  truckling  to  the  abbot,  on  the 
other ;  but  it  all  went  towards  relieving  the  monotony  of  the 
life  in  the  cloister  —  a  monotony  which  has  been  very  much 


DAILY  LIFE  IN  A  MEDL-I^:VAL  MONASTERY      103 

over-stated  by  those  who  have  never  studied  the  subject.    To 
begin  with,  it  does  not  follow  that  what  would  be  very  dull 
to  us  would  be  dull  and  insipid  to  the  men  of  the  thirteenth 
century.     Before  a  man  offered  himself  for  admission  to  a 
monastery,  he  must  have  had  a  taste  for  a  quiet  life,  and  in 
many  instances  he  had  grown  tired  of  the  bustle,  the  struggle, 
and  all  the  anxious  wear  of  the  work-day  world.    He  wanted 
to  be  rid  of  bothers,  in  fact ;  he  was  pretty  sure  to  have  had 
a  fair  education,  and  he  was  presumably  a  religious  man,  with 
a  taste  for  religious  exercises  ;  sometimes,  and  not  unfre- 
quently,  he  was  a  disappointed  man,  who  had  been  left  wife- 
less and  childless  ;  sometimes,  too,  he  was  one  whose  career 
had  been  cut  short  suddenly  by  some  accident  which  incapaci- 
tated him  from  active  exertion  and  made  him  long  only  for 
repose  and  obscurity.   Moreover,  in  those  distant  times  the  in- 
stinct of  devotion  was  incomparably  stronger  than  it  is  now, 
and  people  found  a  real  and  intense  delight  in  the  services 
of  the  sanctuary,  to  say  nothing  of  their  entire  belief  in  the 
spiritual  advantages  to  be  derived  from  taking  part  in  those 
services.     Add  to  this  that  a   monk  had  to  pass  through 
rather  a  long  training  before  he  was  regularly  admitted  to 
full  membership.    He  had  to  submit  to  a  term  of  probation, 
during  which  he  was  subject  to  a  somewhat  rigorous  ordeal. 
A  novice  had  the  pride  taken  out  of  him  in  a  very  effec- 
tual way  during  his  no\-itiate  —  he  was  pretty  much  in  the 
position  of  ^fag  at  a  great  school  nowadays,  and  by  the  time 
that  he  had  passed  through  his  novitiate  he  was  usually  very 
well  broken  in,  and  in  harmony  with  the  spirit  of  the  place 
in  which  he  found  himself.   .   .  . 

But,  when  we  come  to  look  a  litde  closer,  we  find  that  the 
monotony  of  monastic  life  was  almost  confined  to  the  frequent 
services  in  the  church.  There  were  six  services  every  day, 
of  one  kind  or  another,  at  which  the  whole  convent  was 


I04  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

supposed  to  be  present,  and  one  service  at  midnight.  The  lay 
brethren  among  the  Cistercians,  and  the  servants  engaged  in 
field  labour,  were  excused  attendance  at  the  nocturnal  service, 
and  those  officials  of  the  convent  whose  business  required 
them  to  be  absent  from  the  precincts  were  also  excused. 
Indeed,  it  would  have  been  simply  impossible  for  the  whole 
brotherhood  to  assemble  at  all  these  services  ;  there  would 
have  been  a  dead-lock  in  twenty-four  hours  if  the  attempt  had 
been  made  in  any  of  the  large  monasteries,  where  the  inmates 
sometimes  counted  by  hundreds,  who  all  expected  their  meals 
punctually,  and  for  whom  even  the  simplest  cookery  necessi- 
tated that  fires  should  be  kept  up,  the  porridge  boiled,  the 
beer  drawn,  and  the  bread  baked.  Hence,  they  whose  hands 
were  full  and  their  engagements  many  really  had  no  time  to 
put  in  an  appearance  at  church  seven  times  in  twenty-four 
hours.  While,  on  the  other  hand,  the  monk  out  of  office, 
with  nothing  particular  to  do,  was  all  the  better  for  having  his 
time  broken  up  ;  going  to  church  kept  him  out  of  mischief, 
and  singing  of  psalms  saved  him  from  idle  talk,  and  if  it  did 
him  no  good  certainly  did  him  very  little  harm. 

The  ordinary  life  of  the  monastery  began  at  six  o'clock  in 
the  morning,  and  when  the  small  bell,  called  the  skilla,  rang, 
all  rose,  washed  themselves  at  the  latrines,  put  on  their  day 
habit,  and  then  presented  themselves  at  the  matin  Mass. 
Mixtnm,  or  breakfast,  followed,  and  that  over  the  convent 
assembled  in  chapter  for  consultation.  After  chapter  the  offi- 
cials dispersed  ;  the  kitchener  to  arrange  for  the  meals,  and 
not  unfrequently  to  provide  hospitality  for  distinguished 
guests  and  their  retinue  ;  the  precentor  to  drill  his  choir  boys, 
to  tune  the  organ,  to  look  after  the  music,  or  to  arrange  for 
some  procession  in  the  church,  or  some  extraordinary  func- 
tion ;  the  infirmarer  to  take  his  rounds  in  the  hospital ;  the 
cellarer  to  inspect  the  brewhouse  and  bakeries ;  and  each  or 


DAILY  LIFE  IN  A  MEDI^.VAL  MONASTERY      105 

all  of  these  officers  might  find  it  necessary  to  go  far  a-ficld  in 
looking  after  some  bailiff  or  tenant  who  could  not  safely  be  left 
alone.  At  Evesham  the  sacristan,  the  chamberlain,  and  the 
infirmarer  were  allowed  forage  and  the  keep  of  one  horse. 
Meanwhile  in  the  cloister  all  was  stir  and  movement  without 
noise.  In  the  west  alley  the  school-master  was  teaching  his 
little  pupils  the  rudiments  of  Latin,  or  it  might  be  the  elements 
of  singing ;  in  the  south  alley,  where  the  light  was  best,  a 
monk  with  a  taste  for  art  was  trying  his  hand  at  illuminating 
a  MS.  or  rubricating  the  initial  letters;  while  on  the  other 
side,  in  the  north  alley,  some  were  painfully  getting  by  heart 
the  psalms,  or  practising  meditation  —  alone  in  a  crowd. 

Within  the  retirement  of  that  cloister,  fenced  all  round,  as 
I  have  said,  with  the  high  walls  and  the  great  buildings,  there 
the  monks  were  working,  there  the  real  conventual  life  was 
going  on  ;  but  outside  the  cloister,  though  yet  within  the  pre- 
cincts, it  is  difficult  for  us  now  to  realize  what  a  vast  hive  of 
industr}'  a  great  monastery  in  some  of  the  lonely  and  thinly- 
populated  parts  of  England  was.  Everything  that  was  eaten 
or  drunk  or  worn,  almost  everything  that  was  made  or  used 
in  a  monastery,  was  produced  upon  the  spot.  The  grain  grew 
on  their  own  land  ;  the  corn  was  ground  in  their  own  mill ; 
their  clothes  were  made  from  the  wool  of  their  own  sheep ; 
they  had  their  own  tailors  and  shoemakers,  and  carpenters 
and  blacksmiths,  almost  within  call ;  they  kept  their  own 
bees ;  they  grew  their  own  garden-stuff  and  their  own  fruit ; 
I  suspect  they  knew  more  of  fish-culture  than,  until  ver)'  lately, 
we  moderns  could  boast  of  knowing.  Nay,  they  had  their  own 
vineyards  and  made  their  own  wine.  .   .   . 


Io6  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

Number  20 
VILLAGE  LIFE  SIX  HUNDRED  YEARS  AGO 

Augustus  Jessopp.  The  Coming  of  the  Friars  and  Other  Historic  Essays, 
chap,  ii,  passim. 
.  .  .  The  following  address  gives  some  of  the  results  of  my  examination 
of  the  first  series  of  the  Rougham  charters.  It  was  delivered  in  the  Public 
Reading-room  of  the  village  of  Tittleshall,  a  parish  adjoining  Rougham, 
and  was  listened  to  with  apparent  interest  and  great  attention  by  an  audi- 
ence of  farmers,  village  tradesmen,  mechanics,  and  labourers.  I  was  care- 
ful to  avoid  naming  any  place  which  my  audience  were  not  likely  to  know 
well ;  and  there  is  hardly  a  parish  mentioned  which  is  five  miles  from  the 
lecture-room.  .  .  .  —  A.  J. 

...  In  those  days  ^  there  were  the  churches  standing 
generally  where  they  stand  now.  In  those  days,  too,  the  main 
roads  ran  pretty  much  where  they  now  run  ;  and  there  was 
the  same  sun  overhead,  and  there  were  clouds,  and  winds, 
and  floods,  and  storms,  and  sunshine  ;  but  if  you,  any  of 
you,  could  be  taken  up  and  dropped  down  in  Tittleshall  or 
Rougham  such  as  they  were  at  the  time  I  speak  of,  you  would 
feel  almost  as  strange  as  if  you  had  been  suddenly  trans- 
ported to  the  other  end  of  the  world. 

The  only  object  that  you  would  at  all  recognize  would  be 
the  parish  church.  That  stands  where  it  did,  and  where  it 
has  stood,  perhaps,  for  a  thousand  years  or  more  ;  but,  at 
the  time  we  are  now  concerned  with,  it  looked  somewhat 
different  from  what  it  looks  now.  It  had  a  tower,  but  that 
tower  was  plainer  and  lower  than  the  present  one.  The  win- 
dows, too,  were  very  different ;  they  were  smaller  and  nar- 
rower ;  I  think  it  probable  that  in  some  of  them  there  was 
stained  glass,  and  it  is  almost  certain  that  the  walls  were 
covered  with  paintings  representing  scenes  from  the  Bible, 
and  possibly  some  stories  from  the  lives  of  the  saints,  which 

1  About  1282. 


VILLAGE  LIFE  SLX  HUNDRED  YEARS  AGO      107 

everybody  in  those  clays  was  familiar  with.  There  was  no 
pulpit  and  no  reading  desk.  When  the  parson  preached,  he 
preached  from  the  steps  of  the  altar.  The  altar  itself  was 
much  more  ornamented  than  now  it  is.  Upon  the  altar  there 
were  always  some  large  wax  tapers  which  were  lit  on  great 
occasions,  and  over  the  altar  there  hung  a  small  lamp  which 
was  kept  alight  night  and  day.   .   .   . 

There  was,  I  think,  only  one  road  deserving  the  name, 
which  passed  through  Rougham.  .  .  .  But  do  not  suppose 
that  a  road  in  those  days  meant  what  it  does  now.  To  begin 
with,  people  in  the  country  never  drove  about  in  carriages. 
In  such  a  place  as  Rougham,  men  and  women  might  live  all 
their  lives  without  ever  seeing  a  travelling  carriage,  whether 
on  four  wheels  or  two.  The  road  was  quite  unfit  for  driving 
on.  There  were  no  highway  rates.  Now  and  then  a  roadway 
got  so  absolutely  impassable,  or  a  bridge  over  a  stream  became 
so  dangerous,  that  people  grumbled  ;  and  then  an  order  came 
down  from  the  king  to  the  high  sheriff  of  the  county,  bid- 
ding him  see  to  his  road,  and  the  sheriff  thereupon  taxed  the 
dwellers  in  the  hundred  and  forced  them  to  put  things  straight. 
The  village  of  Rougham  in  those  days  was  in  its  general  plan 
not  very  unlike  the  present  village  —  that  is  to  say,  the  church 
standing  where  it  does,  next  to  the  churchyard  was  the  par- 
sonage with  a  croft  attached  ;  and  next  to  that  a  row  of 
houses  inhabited  by  the  principal  people  of  the  place,  whose 
names  I  could  give  you,  and  the  order  of  their  dwellings,  if  it 
were  worth  while.  Each  of  these  houses  had  some  outbuild- 
ings —  cowsheds,  barns,  etc.,  and  a  small  croft  fenced  round. 
Opposite  these  houses  was  another  row  facing  west,  as  the 
others  faced  east ;  but  these  latter  houses  were  apparently 
occupied  by  the  poorer  inhabitants  —  the  smith,  the  car- 
penter, and  the  general  shopkeeper,  who  called  himself,  and 
was  called  bv  others,  the  vtcrcJiaiit.    There  was  one  house 


lo8  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

which  appears  to  have  stood  apart  from  the  rest  and  near 
Wesenham  Heath.  It  probably  was  encircled  by  a  moat, 
and  approached  by  a  drawbridge,  the  bridge  being  drawn  up 
at  sunset.  It  was  called  the  Lyng  House,  and  had  been 
probably  built  two  or  three  generations  back,  and  now  was 
occupied  by  a  person  of  some  consideration —  .   .   . 

The  Lyng  House,  however,  was  not  the  great  house  of 
Rougham.  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  stood  not  far  from 
the  spot  where  Rougham  Hall  now  stands.  It  was  in  those 
days  called  the  Manor  House,  or  the  Manor. 

And  this  brings  me  to  a  point  where  I  must  needs  enter 
into  some  explanations.  Six  hundred  years  ago  all  the  land 
in  England  was  supposed  to  belong  to  the  king  in  the  first 
instance.  The  king  had  in  former  times  parcelled  it  out  into 
tracts  of  country,  some  large  and  some  small,  and  made  over 
these  tracts  to  his  great  lords,  or  barons,  as  they  were  called. 
The  barons  were  supposed  to  hold  these  tracts,  called  fiefs, 
as  tenants  of  the  king,  and  in  return  they  were  expected  to 
make  an  acknowledgment  to  the  king  in  the  shape  of  some 
service,  which,  though  it  was  not  originally  a  money  pay- 
ment, yet  became  so  eventually,  and  was  always  a  substan- 
tial charge  upon  the  land.  These  fiefs  were  often  made  up  of 
estates  in  many  different  shires  ;  and,  because  it  was  impos- 
sible for  the  barons  to  cultivate  all  their  estates  themselves, 
they  let  them  out  to  sub-tenants,  who  in  their  turn  were 
bound  to  render  services  to  the  lord  of  the  fief.  These  sub- 
tenants were  the  great  men  in  the  several  parishes,  and 
became  the  actual  lords  of  the  manors,  residing  upon  the 
manors,  and  having  each,  on  their  several  manors,  very  large 
powers  for  good  or  evil  over  the  tillers  of  the  soil. 

A  manor  six  hundred  years  ago  meant  something  very 
different  from  a  manor  now.  The  lord  was  a  petty  king, 
having  his  subjects  very  much  under  his  thumb.     But  his 


VILLAGE  Llli-:  SIX  IIUNDRKD   \KARS  AG() 


109 


subjects  differed  greatly  in  rank  and  status.  In  the  first 
place,  there  were  those  who  were  called  the  free  tenants. 
The  free  tenants  were  they  who  lived  in  houses  of  their  own 
and  cultivated  land  of  their  own,  and  who  made  only  an  annual 
money  payment  to  the  lord  of  the  manor  as  an  acknowledg- 
ment of  his  lordship.  The  payment  was  trifling,  amounting 
to  some  few  pence  an  acre  at  the  most,  and  a  shilling  or  so, 
as  the  case  might  be,  for  the  house.  .  .  .  The  free  tenant  was 
neither  a  yearly  tenant,  nor  a  leaseholder.  His  holding  was, 
to  all  intents  and  purposes,  his  own  —  subject,  of  course,  to 
the  payment  of  the  ground  rent.  But  if  he  wanted  to  sell 
out  of  his  holding,  the  lord  of  the  manor  exacted  a  payment 
for  the  privilege.  If  he  died,  his  heir  had  to  pay  for  being 
admitted  to  his  inheritance,  and  if  he  died  wathout  heirs,  the 
property  went  back  to  the  lord  of  the  manor,  who  then,  but 
only  then,  could  raise  the  ground  rent  if  he  pleased,  though 
he  rarely  did  so.    So  much  for  the  free  tenants. 

Besides  these  were  the  villeins  or  villani,  or  natives,  as 
they  were  called.  The  villeins  were  tillers  of  the  soil,  who 
held  land  under  the  lord,  and  who,  besides  paying  a  small 
money  ground  rent,  were  obliged  to  perform  certain  arduous 
services  to  the  lord,  such  as  to  plough  the  lord's  land  for  so 
many  da}s  in  the  year,  to  carry  his  corn  in  the  har\^est,  to 
provide  a  cart  on  occasion,  etc.  Of  course  these  burdens 
pressed  very  heavily  at  times,  and  the  services  of  the  villeins 
were  vexatious  and  irritating  under  a  hard  and  unscrupulous 
lord.  But  there  were  other  serious  inconveniences  about  the 
condition  of  the  villein  or  native,  (^nce  a  villein,  always  a 
villein.  A  man  or  woman  born  in  villeinage  could  never  shake 
it  off.  Nay,  they  might  not  even  go  away  from  the  manor  to 
which  they  were  born,  and  they  might  not  marry  without  the 
lord's  license,  and  for  that  license  they  always  had  to  pay. 
Let  a  villein  be  ever  so  shrewd  or  enterprising  or  thriftv, 


no  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

there  was  no  hope  for  him  to  change  his  state,  except  by  the 
special  grace  of  the  lord  of  the  manor.^  Yes,  there  zvas  one 
means  whereby  he  could  be  set  free,  and  that  was  if  he  could 
get  a  bishop  to  ordain  him.  The  fact  of  a  man  being  ordained 
at  once  made  him  a  free  man,  and  a  knowledge  of  this  fact 
must  have  served  as  a  very  strong  inducement  to  young  people 
to  avail  themselves  of  all  the  helps  in  their  power  to  obtain 
something  like  an  education,  and  so  to  qualify  themselves  for 
admission  to  the  clerical  order  and  to  the  rank  of  free-man. 

At  Rougham  there  was  a  certain  Ralph  Red,  who  was  one 
of  these  villeins  under  the  lord  of  the  manor,  a  certain  William 
le  Buder.    Ralph  Red  had  a  son  Ralph,  who  I  suppose  was 
an  intelligent  youth,  and  made  the  most  of  his  brains.    He 
managed  to  get  ordained  about  six  hundred  years  ago,  and 
he  became  a  chaplain.  ...    His  father,  however,  was  still  a 
villein,  liable  to  all  the  villein  services,  and  belonging  to  the 
manor  and  the  lord,  he  and  all  his  offspring.    Young  Ralph 
did   not    like   it,   and    at   last,   getting  the   money  together 
somehow,  he  bought  his  father's  freedom,  and,  observe,  with 
his  freedom  the  freedom  of  all  his  father's  children  too,  and 
the  price  he  paid  was  twenty  marks.^    That  sounds  a  ridicu- 
lously small  sum,  but  I  feel  pretty  sure  that  six  hundred  years 
ago  twenty  marks  would  be  almost  as  difficult  for  a  penniless 
young  chaplain  to  get  together  as  ;^500  for  a    penniless 
young  curate  to  amass  now.     Of  the  younger  Ralph,  who 
bought  his  father's  freedom,  I  know  litde  more  ;  but,  less 
than  one  hundred  and  fifty  years  after  the  elder  man  received 
his  liberty,  a  lineal  descendent  of  his  became  lord  of  the 
manor  of  Rougham,   .   .  . 


1  1  do  not  take  account  of  those  who  ran  away  to  the  corporate  towns.  I  suspect 
that  there  were  many  more  cases  of  this  than  some  writers  allow.  It  was  sometimes  a 
serious  inconvenience  to  the  lords  of  manors  near  such  towns  as  Norwich  or  Lynn.  .  .  . 

2  A  man  could  not  buy  his  own  freedom.  .  .  . 


VILLAGE  LIFE  SL\   HLXDKKD   YEARS   AGO      iii 

When  Ralph  Red  bought  his  father's  freedom  of  WilUam 
le  Butler,  William  gave  him  an  acknowledgment  for  the 
money,  and  a  written  certificate  of  the  transaction,  but  he  did 
not  sign  his  name.  In  those  days  nobody  signed  their  names, 
not  because  they  could  not  write,  for  I  suspect  that  just  as 
large  a  proportion  of  people  in  England  could  write  well  six 
hundred  years  ago,  as  could  have  done  so  forty  years  ago,  but 
because  it  was  not  the  fashion  to  sign  one's  name.  Instead 
of  doing  that,  everybody  who  was  a  free  man,  and  a  man  of 
substance,  in  executing  any  legal  instrument,  affixed  to  it  his 
seal,  and  that  stood  for  his  signature.  People  always  carried 
their  seals  about  with  them  in  a  purse  or  small  bag,  and  it 
was  no  uncommon  thing  for  a  pickpocket  to  cut  off  this  bag 
and  run  away  with  the  seal,  and  thus  put  the  owner  to  very 
serious  inconvenience.   .   .   . 

Six  hundred  years  ago  it  may  be  said  that  there  were  two 
kinds  of  law  in  England,  the  one  was  the  law  of  the  land,  the 
other  was  the  law  of  the  Church.  The  law  of  the  land  was 
hideously  cruel  and  merciless,  and  the  gallows  and  the  pillor)% 
never  far  from  any  man's  door,  were  seldom  allowed  to  re- 
main long  out  of  use.  The  ghastly  frequency  of  the  punish- 
ment by  death  tended  to  make  people  savage  and  bloodthirsty. 
It  tended,  too,  to  make  men  absolutely  reckless  of  consequences 
when  once  their  passions  were  roused.  "  As  well  be  hung  for 
a  sheep  as  a  lamb  "  was  a  saying  that  had  a  grim  truth  in  it. 
When  a  violent  ruffian  knew  that  if  he  robbed  his  host  in  the 
night  he  would  be  sure  to  be  hung  for  it,  and  if  he  killed  him 
he  could  be  no  more  than  hung,  he  had  nothing  to  gain  by  let- 
ting him  live,  and  nothing  to  lose  if  he  cut  his  throat.  Where 
another  knew  that  by  tampering  with  the  coin  of  the  realm 
he  was  sure  to  go  to  the  gallows  for  it,  ho  might  as  well  make 
a  good  fight  before  he  was  taken,  and  murder  any  one  who 
stood  in  the  way  of  his  escape.    Hanging  went  on  at  a  pace 


112  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

which  we  cannot  conceive,  for  in  those  days  the  criminal  law 
of  the  land  was  not,  as  it  is  now,  a  strangely  devised  machinery 
for  protecting  the  wrongdoer,  but  it  was  an  awful  and  tre- 
mendous power  for  slaying  all  who  were  dangerous  to  the 
persons  or  the  property  of  the  community. 

The  law  of  the  Church,  on  the  other  hand,  was  much  more 
lenient.  To  hurry  a  man  to  death  with  his  sins  and  crimes 
fresh  upon  him,  to  slaughter  men  wholesale  for  acts  that  could 
not  be  regarded  as  enormously  wicked,  shocked  those  who  had 
learnt  that  the  Gospel  taught  such  virtues  as  mercy  and  long- 
suffering,  and  gave  men  hopes  of  forgiveness  on  repentance. 
The  Church  set  itself  against  the  atrocious  mangling,  and 
branding,  and  hanging  that  was  being  dealt  out  blindly,  hastily, 
and  indiscriminately,  to  eveiy  kind  of  transgressor  ;  and  in- 
asmuch as  the  Church  law  and  the  law  of  the  land  six  hun- 
dred years  ago  were  often  in  conflict,  the  Church  law  acted 
to  a  great  extent  as  a  check  upon  the  shocking  ferocity  of  the 
criminal  code.    And  this  is  how  the  check  was  exercised. 

A  man  who  was  a  cleric  was  only  half  amenable  to  the  law 
of  the  land.  He  was  a  citizen  of  the  realm,  and  a  subject  of 
the  king,  but  he  was  more  ;  he  owed  allegiance  to  the  Church, 
and  claimed  the  Church's  protection  also.  Accordingly,  when- 
ever a  cleric  got  into  trouble,  and  there  was  only  too  good 
cause  to  believe  that  if  he  were  brought  to  his  trial  he  would 
have  a  short  shrift  and  no  favour,  scant  justice  and  the  inevitable 
gallows  within  twenty-four  hours  at  the  longest,  he  proclaimed 
himself  a  cleric,  and  demanded  the  protection  of  the  Church, 
and  was  forthwith  handed  over  to  the  custody  of  the  ordinary 
or  bishop.  The  process  was  a  clumsy  one,  and  led,  of  course, 
to  great  abuses,  but  it  had  a  good  side.  As  a  natural  and 
inevitable  consequence  of  such  a  privilege  accorded  to  a  class, 
there  was  a  very  strong  inducement  to  become  a  member  of 
that  class ;   and  as  the  Church  made  it  easy  for  any  fairly 


VILLAGE  LIFE  SIX  HUNDRED  YEARS  AGO     113 

educated  man  to  be  admitted  at  any  rate  to  the  lower  orders 
of  the  ministry,  any  one  who  preferred  a  professional  career, 
or  desired  to  give  himself  up  to  a  life  of  study,  enrolled 
himself  among  the  clerics,  and  was  henceforth  reckoned  as 
belonging  to  tlie  clergy. 

The  country  swarmed  with  these  clerics.  Only  a  small  pro- 
portion of  them  ever  became  ministers  of  religion  ;  they  were 
lawyers,  or  even  lawyers'  clerks  ;  they  were  secretaries  ;  some 
few  were  quacks  with  nostrums  ;  .   .   . 

But  besides  the  clerics  and  the  chaplains  and  the  rector  or 
vicar,  there  was  another  class,  the  members  of  which  just  at 
this  time  were  playing  a  very  important  part  indeed  in  the  re- 
ligious life  of  the  people,  and  not  in  the  religious  life  alone ; 
these  were  the  Friars.  If  the  monks  looked  down  upon  the 
parsons,  and  stole  their  endowments  from  them  whenever 
they  could,  and  if  in  return  the  parsons  hated  the  monks  and 
regarded  them  with  profound  suspicion  and  jealousy,  both 
parsons  and  monks  were  united  in  their  common  dislike  of 
the  Friars. 

Six  hundred  years  ago  the  Friars  had  been  established  in 
England  about  sixty  years,  and  they  were  now  by  far  the  most 
influential  Religionists  in  the  country.  The  Friars,  though 
always  stationed  in  the  towns,  and  by  this  time  occupying  large 
establishments  which  were  built  for  them  in  Lynn,  Yarmouth, 
Norwich,  and  elsewhere,  were  always  acting  the  part  of  itin- 
erant preachers,  and  travelled  their  circuits  on  foot,  supported 
by  alms.  Sometimes  the  parson  lent  thcni  the  church,  some- 
times they  held  a  camp  meeting  in  spite  of  him,  and  just 
as  often  as  not  they  left  behind  them  a  feeling  of  great  sore- 
ness, irritation,  and  discontent ;  but  six  hundred  years  ago 
the  preaching  of  the  Friars  was  an  immense  and  incalculable 
blessing  to  the  country,  and  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  won- 
derful   reformation    wrought   b\-   their   activity   and   burning 


114  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

enthusiasm,  it  is  difficult  to  see  what  we  should  have  come  to 
or  what  corruption  might  have  prevailed  in  Church  and  State. 

When  the  Friars  came  into  a  village,  and  it  was  known 
that  they  were  going  to  preach,  you  may  be  sure  that  the  whole 
population  would  turn  out  to  listen.  Sermons  in  those  days 
in  the  country  were  very  rarely  delivered.  As  I  have  said, 
there  were  no  pulpits  in  the  churches  then.  A  parson  might 
hold  a  benefice  for  fifty  years,  and  never  once  have  written  or 
composed  a  sermon.  A  preaching  parson,  one  who  regularly 
exhorted  his  people  or  expounded  to  them  the  Scriptures, 
would  have  been  a  wonder  indeed,  and  thus  the  coming  of 
the  Friars  and  the  revival  of  pulpit  oratory  was  all  the  more 
welcome  because  the  people  had  not  become  wearied  by  the 
too  frequent  iteration  of  truths  which  may  be  repeated  so  fre- 
quently as  to  lose  their  vital  force.  A  sermon  was  an  event 
in  those  days,  and  a  preacher  with  any  real  gifts  of  oratory 
was  looked  upon  as  a  prophet  sent  by  God.  Never  was  there 
a  time  when  the  people  needed  more  to  be  taught  the  very 
rudiments  of  morality.  Never  had  there  been  a  time  when 
people  cared  less  whether  their  acts  or  words  were  right  or 
wrong,  true  or  false.  It  had  almost  come  to  this,  that  what 
a  man  thought  would  be  to  his  profit,  that  was  good  ;  what 
would  entail  upon  him  a  loss,  that  was  evil. 

And  this  brings  me  to  another  point,  viz.,  the  lawlessness 
and  crime  in  country  villages  six  hundred  years  ago.  But 
before  I  can  speak  on  that  subject  it  is  necessary  that  I  should 
first  try  to  give  you  some  idea  of  the  every-day  life  of  your 
forefathers.  What  did  they  eat  and  drink  ?  what  did  they 
wear  ?  what  did  they  do  from  day  to  day  ?  Were  they  happy  ? 
content  ?  prosperous  ?  or  was  their  lot  a  hard  and  bitter  one  .? 
For  according  to  the  answer  we  get  to  questions  such  as  these, 
so  shall  we  be  the  better  prepared  to  expect  the  people  to  have 
been  peaceable  citizens,  or  sullen,  miserable,  and  dangerous 


VILLAGE  LIFE  SIX   HUNDRED  YEARS  AGO      115 

ruffians,  goaded  to  frequent  outbursts  of  ferocious  savagedom 
by  hunger,  oppression,  hatred  and  despair. 

Six  hundred  years  ago  no  parish  in  Norfolk  had  more  than 
a  part  of  its  land  under  tillage.  As  a  rule,  the  town  or  village, 
with  its  houses,  great  and  small,  consisted  of  a  long  street,  the 
church  and  parsonage  being  situated  about  the  middle  of  the 
parish.  Not  far  off  stood  the  manor  house,  with  its  hall  where 
the  manor  courts  were  held,  and  its  farm-buildings,  dovecote, 
and  usually  its  mill  for  grinding  the  corn  of  the  tenants.  No 
tenant  of  the  manor  might  take  his  corn  to  be  ground  any- 
where except  at  the  lord's  mill ;  and  it  is  easy  to  see  what  a 
grievance  this  would  be  felt  to  be  at  times,  and  how  the  lord 
of  the  manor,  if  he  were  needy,  unscrupulous,  or  extortionate, 
might  grind  the  faces  of  the  poor  while  he  ground  their  corn. 
Behind  most  of  the  houses  in  the  village  might  be  seen  a  croft 
or  paddock,  an  orchard  or  a  small  garden.  But  the  contents 
of  the  gardens  were  very  different  from  the  vegetables  we  see 
now ;  there  were,  perhaps,  a  few  cabbages,  onions,  parsnips, 
or  carrots,  and  apparently  some  kind  of  beet  or  turnip.  The 
potato  had  never  been  heard  of. 

As  for  the  houses  themselves,  they  were  squalid  enough 
for  the  most  part.  The  manor  house  was  often  built  of  stone, 
when  stone  was  to  be  had,  or  where,  as  in  Norfolk,  no  stone 
was  to  be  had,  then  of  flint,  as  in  so  many  of  our  church 
towers.  Usually,  however,  the  manor  house  was  built  in  great 
part  of  timber.  The  poorer  houses  were  dirty  hovels,  run 
up  "anyhow,"  sometimes  covered  with  turf,  sometimes  with 
thatch.  None  of  them  had  chimneys.  Six  hundred  years  ago 
houses  with  chimnevs  were  at  least  as  rare  as  houses  heated 
by  hot-water  pipes  are  now.^  Moreover,  there  were  no  brick 
houses.  It  is  a  curious  fact  that  the  art  of  making  bricks 
seems  to  have  been  lost  in  England  for  some  hundreds  of 

1 1S97. 


Il6  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

years.  The  labourer's  dwelling  had  no  windows  ;  the  hole  in 
the  roof  which  let  out  the  smoke  rendered  windows  unnec- 
essary, and,  even  in  the  houses  of  the  well-to-do,  glass  win- 
dows w^ere  rare.  In  many  cases  oiled  linen  cloth  served  to 
admit  a  feeble  semblance  of  light,  and  to  keep  out  the  rain. 
The  labourer's  fire  was  in  the  middle  of  his  house  ;  he  and 
his  wife  and  children  huddled  round  it,  sometimes  grovelling 
in  the  ashes  ;  and  going  to  bed  meant  flinging  themselves 
down  upon  the  straw  which  served  them  as  mattress  and 
feather  bed,  exactly  as  it  does  to  the  present  day  in  the 
g}-psy's  tent  in  our  by  ways.  The  labourer's  only  light  by  night 
was  the  smouldering  fire.  Why  should  he  burn  a  rushlight 
when  there  was  nothing  to  look  at.?  and  reading  was  an 
accomplishment  which  few  labouring  men  were  masters  of. 

As  to  the  food  of  the  majority,  it  was  of  the  coarsest.  The 
fathers  of  many  a  man  and  woman  in  every  village  in  Nor- 
folk can  remember  the  time  when  the  labourer  looked  upon 
wheat-bread  as  a  rare  delicacy  ;  and  those  legacies  which  were 
left  by  kindly  people  a  century  or  two  ago,  providing  for  the 
weekly  distribution  of  so  many  xvhite  loaves  to  the  poor,  tell 
us  of  a  time  when  the  poor  man's  loaf  was  as  dark  as  mud, 
and  as  tough  as  his  shoe-leather.  In  the  winter-time  things 
went  very  hard  indeed  with  all  classes.  There  was  no  lack  of 
fuel,  for  the  brakes  and  waste  afforded  turf  which  all  might 
cut,  and  kindling  which  all  had  a  right  to  carry  away  ;  but  the 
poor  horses  and  sheep  and  cattle  were  half  starved  for  at  least 
four  months  in  the  year,  and  one  and  all  were  much  smaller 
than  they  are  now.  I  doubt  whether  people  ever  fatted  their 
hogs  as  we  do.  When  the  corn  was  reaped,  the  swine  were 
turned  into  the  stubble  and  roamed  about  the  underwood  ; 
and  when  they  had  increased  their  weight  by  the  feast  of  roots 
and  mast  and  acorns,  they  were  slaughtered  and  salted  for 
the  winter  fare,  only  so  many  being  kept  alive  as  might  not 


VILLAGE  LIFE  SIX   HUNDRED   \'EARS  AGO      117 

prove  burdensome  to  the  scanty  resources  of  the  people. 
Salting  down  the  animals  for  the  winter  consumption  was  a 
very  serious  expense.  All  the  salt  used  was  produced  by  evap- 
oration in  pcx)is  near  the  seaside,  and  a  couple  bushels  of  salt 
often  cost  as  much  as  a  sheep.  This  must  have  compelled 
the  people  to  spare  the  salt  as  much  as  possible,  and  it  must 
have  been  only  too  common  to  find  the  bacon  more  than  ran- 
cid, and  the  ham  alive  again  with  maggots.  If  the  salt  was 
dear  and  scarce,  sugar  was  unknown  except  to  the  very  rich. 
The  poor  man  had  little  to  sweeten  his  lot.  The  bees  gave 
him  honey  ;  and  long  after  the  time  I  am  dealing  with  people 
left  not  only  their  hives  to  their  children  by  will,  but  actually 
bequeathed  a  summer  flight  of  bees  to  their  friends ;  while  the 
hive  was  claimed  by  one,  the  next  swarm  might  become  the 
property  of  another. 

As  for  the  drink,  it  was  almost  exclusively  water,  beer,  and 
cider.   .   .   . 

.  .  .  Tobacco  was  quite  unknown  ;  it  was  first  brought  into 
England  about  three  hundred  years  after  the  days  we  are  deal- 
ing with.  When  a  man  once  sat  himself  down  with  his  pot  he 
had  nothing  to  do  but  drink.  He  had  no  pipe  to  take  off  his 
attention  from  his  liquor.  If  such  a  portentious  sight  could 
have  been  seen  in  those  days  as  that  of  a  man  vomiting  forth 
clouds  of  smoke  from  his  mouth  and  nostrils,  the  beholders 
would  have  undoubtedly  taken  to  their  heels  and  run  for  their 
lives,  protesting  that  the  devil  himself  had  appeared  to  them, 
breathing  forth  fire  and  flames.  Tea  and  coffee,  too,  were 
absolutely  unknown,  unheard  of  ;  and  wine  was  the  rich  man's 
beverage,  as  it  is  now.  The  fire-waters  of  our  own  time  — 
the  gin  and  the  rum,  which  have  brought  us  all  such  incal- 
culable mischief  —  were  not  discovered  then.  Some  little 
ardent  spirits,  known  under  the  name  of  cordials,  were  to  be 
found  in  the  better  appointed  establishments,  and  were  kept 


Il8  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

by  the  lady  of  the  house  among  her  simples,  and  on  special 
occasions  dealt  out  in  thimblefuls  ;  but  the  vile  grog,  that 
maddens  people  now,  our  forefathers  of  six  hundred  years 
ago  had  never  even  tasted. 

The  absence  of  vegetable  food  for  the  greater  part  of  the 
year,  the  personal  dirt  of  the  people,  the  sleeping  at  night 
in  the  clothes  worn  in  the  day,  and  other  causes,  made  skin 
diseases  frightfully  common.  At  the  outskirts  of  every  town 
in  England  of  any  size  there  were  crawling  about  emaciated 
creatures  covered  with  loathsome  sores,  living  heaven  knows 
how.  They  were  called  by  the  common  name  of  lepers,  and 
probably  the  leprosy  strictly  so  called  was  awfully  common. 
But  the  children  must  have  swarmed  with  vermin ;  and  the  itch, 
and  the  scurvy,  and  the  ringworm,  with  other  hideous  erup- 
tions, must  have  played  fearful  havoc  with  the  weak  and  sickly. 

As  for  the  dress  of  the  working  classes,  it  was  hardly  dress 
at  all.  I  doubt  whether  the  great  mass  of  the  labourers  in 
Norfolk  had  more  than  a  single  garment  —  a  kind  of  tunic 
leaving  the  arms  and  legs  bare,  with  a  girdle  of  rope  or  leather 
round  the  waist,  in  which  a  man's  knife  was  stuck,  to  use 
sometimes  for  hacking  his  bread,  sometimes  for  stabbing  an 
enemy  in  a  quarrel.  As  for  any  cotton  goods,  such  as  are 
familiar  to  you  all,  they  had  never  been  dreamt  of,  and  I  sus- 
pect that  no  more  people  in  Norfolk  wore  linen  habitually 
than  now  wear  silk. 

Money  was  almost  inconceivably  scarce.  The  labourer's 
wages  were  paid  partly  in  rations  of  food,  pardy  in  other 
allowances,  and  only  partly  in  money ;  he  had  to  take  what 
he  could  get.  Even  the  quit- rent,  or  what  I  have  called  the 
ground  rent,  was  frequently  compounded  for  by  the  tenant 
being  required  to  find  a  pair  of  gloves,  or  a  pound  of  cum- 
min, or  some  other  acknowledgment  in  lieu  of  a  money 
payment ;   .   .  . 


VILLAGE  LIFE  SIX   HUNDRED  YEARS  AGO      119 

The  picture  we  get  of  the  utter  lawlessness  of  the  whole  coun- 
try, however,  at  the  beginning  of  King  Edward's  reign  is  quite 
dreadful  enough.  Nobody  seems  to  have  resorted  to  the  law  to 
maintain  a  right  or  redress  a  wrong,  till  every  other  method  had 
been  tried.  Starting  with  the  squires,  if  I  may  use  the  term,  and 
those  well-to-do  people  who  ought  to  have  been  among  the  most 
law-abiding  members  of  the  community  —  we  find  them  setting 
an  example  of  violence  and  rapacity,  bad  to  read  of.  .   .  . 

It  really  looks  as  if  nothing  was  more  easy  than  to  collect 
a  band  of  people  who  could  be  let  loose  anywhere  to  work 
any  mischief.  ...  As  when  John  de  la  Wade  in  1270  per- 
suaded a  band  of  men  to  help  him  in  invading  the  manor 
of  Hamon  de  Clere,  in  this  very  parish  of  Tittleshall,  seizing 
the  corn  and  threshing  it,  and,  more  wonderful  still,  cutting 
down  timber,  and  carrying  it  off.  ...  A  much  more  serious 
case,  however,  occurred  some  years  after  this  when  two 
gentlemen  of  position  in  Norfolk,  with  twenty-five  followers, 
who  appear  to  have  been  their  regular  retainers,  and  a  great 
multitude  on  foot  and  horse,  came  to  Little  Karningham, 
where  in  the  Hall  there  lived  an  old  lady,  Petronilla  de  Gros  ; 
they  set  fire  to  the  house  in  five  places,  dragged  out  the 
old  lady,  treated  her  with  the  most  brutal  violence,  and  so 
worked  upon  her  fears  that  they  compelled  her  to  tell  them 
where  her  money  and  jewels  were,  and,  having  seized  them, 
I  conclude  that  they  left  her  to  warm  herself  at  the  smoul- 
dering ruins  of  her  mansion.  .   .   . 

If  the  gentry,  and  they  who  ought  to  have  known  better, 
set  such  an  example,  and  gave  their  sanction  to  outrage  and 
savagery,  it  was  only  natural  that  the  lower  orders  should  be 
quick  to  take  their  pattern  by  their  superiors,  and  should  be 
only  too  ready  to  break  and  defy  the  law.  And  so  it  is  clear 
enough  that  they  were.  In  a  single  year,  the  year  1285, 
in  the  hundred  of  North  lu-pingham,  containing  thirty-two 


I20  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

parishes,  the  catalogue  of  crime  is  so  ghastly  as  positively  to 
stagger  one.  Without  taking  any  account  of  what  in  those 
days  must  have  been  looked  upon  as  quite  minor  offences  — 
such  as  simple  theft,  sheep-stealing,  fraud,  extortion,  or 
harbouring  felons  —  there  were  eleven  men  and  five  women 
put  upon  their  trial  for  burglary,  eight  men  and  four  women 
were  murdered ;  there  were  five  fatal  fights,  three  men  and 
two  women  being  killed  in  the  frays  ;  and,  saddest  of  all, 
there  were  five  cases  of  suicide,  among  them  two  women, 
one  of  whom  hanged  herself,  the  other  cut  her  throat  with  a 
razor.  We  have  in  the  roll  recording  these  horrors  very 
minute  particulars  of  the  several  cases,  and  we  know  too  that, 
not  many  months  before  the  roll  was  drawn  up,  at  least 
eleven  desperate  wretches  had  been  hanged  for  various 
offences,  and  one  had  been  torn  to  pieces  by  horses  for  the 
crime  of  debasing  the  king's  coin.  It  is  impossible  for  us  to 
realize  the  hideous  ferocity  of  such  a  state  of  society  as  this ; 
the  women  were  as  bad  as  the  men,  furious  beldames,  danger- 
ous as  wild  beasts,  without  pity,  without  shame,  without 
remorse ;  and  finding  life  so  cheerless,  so  hopeless,  so  very 
very  dark  and  miserable,  that  when  there  was  nothing  to  be 
gained  by  killing  any  one  else  they  killed  themselves. 

Anywhere,  anywhere  out  of  the  world  ! 

Sentimental  people  who  plaintively  sigh  for  the  good  old 
times  will  do  well  to  ponder  upon  these  facts.  Think,  twelve 
poor  creatures  butchered  in  cold  blood  in  a  single  year  within 
a  circuit  of  ten  miles  from  your  own  door !  Two  of  these 
unhappy  victims  were  a  couple  of  lonely  women,  apparently 
living  together  in  their  poverty,  gashed  and  battered  in  the 
dead  of  night,  and  left  in  their  blood,  stripped  of  their 
little  all.  The  motive,  too,  for  all  this  horrible  housebreaking 
and  bloodshed,  being  a  lump  of  cheese  or  a  side  of  bacon, 


\  ILLAGE  Lll'E  SIX   llLXDREl)   YEARS  AGO     121 

and  the  shuddering  creatures  cowering  in  the  corner  of  a 
hovel,  being  too  paralyzed  with  terror  to  utter  a  cry,  and 
never  dreaming  of  making  resistance  to  the  wild-eyed  assas- 
sins, who  came  to  slay  rather  than  to  steal.  .   .   . 

I  can  tell  you  nothing  of  the  amusements  of  the  people  in 
those  days.  I  doubt  whether  they  had  any  more  amusement 
than  the  swine  or  the  cows  had.  Looking  after  the  fowls  or 
the  geese,  hunting  for  the  hen's  nest  in  the  furze  brake,  and 
digging  out  a  fox  or  a  badger,  gave  them  an  hour's  excite- 
ment or  interest  now  and  again.  Now  and  then  a  wandering 
minstrel  came  by,  playing  upon  his  rude  instrument,  and  now 
and  then  somebody  would  come  out  from  Lynn,  or  Yarmouth, 
or  Norwich,  with  some  new  batch  of  songs  for  the  most  part 
scurrilous  and  coarse,  and  listened  to  much  less  for  the  sake 
of  the  music  than  for  the  words.   .   .  . 

And  this  reminds  me  that  though  archdeacons,  and  bishops, 
and  even  an  archbishop,  in  those  days  might  be  and  were 
very  important  and  very  powerful  personages,  they  were  all 
very  small  and  insignificant  in  comparison  with  the  great 
King  Edward,  the  king  who  at  this  time  was  looked  upon  as 
one  of  the  most  mighty  and  magnificent  kings  in  all  the  world. 
He,  too,  paid  many  a  visit  to  Norfolk  six  hundred  years  ago. 
He  kept  his  Christmas  at  Burgh  in  1280,  and  in  1284  he 
came  down  with  the  good  Queen  Eleanor  and  spent  the 
whole  of  Lent  in  the  county  ;  and  next  year,  again,  they  were 
in  your  immediate  neighbourhood,  making  a  pilgrimage  to 
W'alsingham.  A  few  years  after  this  he  seems  to  have  spent 
a  week  or  two  within  five  miles  of  where  we  are  ;  he  came  to 
Castle  Acre,  and  there  he  stayed  at  the  great  priory  whose 
ruins  you  all  know  well.  There  a  very  stirring  interview  took 
place  between  the  king  and  Bishop  Walpole,  and  a  number 
of  other  bishops,  and  great  persons  who  had  come  down  as  a 
deputation  to  expostulate  with  the  king,  and  respectfully  to 


122  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

protest  against  the  way  in  which  he  was  robbing  his  subjects, 
and  especially  the  clergy,  whom  he  had  been  for  years  plun- 
dering in  the  most  outrageous  manner.  The  king  gave  the 
deputation  no  smooth  words  to  carry  away,  but  he  sent  them 
off  with  threatening  frowns  and  insults  and  in  hot  anger.  .  .  . 
My  friends,  the  people  who  lived  in  this  village  six 
hundred  years  ago  were  living  a  life  hugely  below  the  level 
of  yours.  They  were  more  wretched  in  their  poverty,  they 
were  incomparably  less  prosperous  in  their  prosperity,  they 
were  worse  clad,  worse  fed,  worse  housed,  worse  taught,  worse 
tended,  worse  governed  ;  they  were  sufferers  from  loathsome 
diseases  which  you  know  nothing  of ;  the  ver)^  beasts  of  the 
field  were  dwarfed  and  stunted  in  their  growth,  and  I  do  not 
believe  there  were  any  giants  in  the  earth  in  those  days.  The 
death-rate  among  the  children  must  have  been  tremendous. 
The  disregard  of  human  life  was  so  callous  that  we  can 
hardly  conceive  it.  There  was  ever)'thing  to  harden,  nothing 
to  soften ;  everywhere  oppression,  greed,  and  fierceness. 
Judged  by  our  modern  standards,  the  people  of  our  county 
village  were  beyond  all  doubt  coarser,  more  brutal,  and  more 
wicked,  than  they  are.  Progress  is  slow,  but  there  has  been 
progress.  .   .  . 

Number  21 

THE  TOWNS,    INDUSTRIAL  VILLAGES,  AND 

FAIRS 

H.  DE  B.  GiBBlNS.    Industrial  History  of  England,  pp.  57-64. 

1 .  The  chief  manufacturing  towns.  —  During  the  period 
between  the  Norman  Conquest  and  the  middle  of  the  thir- 
teenth century,  the  towns,  as  we  saw,  had  been  gradually  grow- 
ing in  importance,  gaining  fresh  privileges,  and  becoming 


TOWNS,  INDUSTRIAL  VILLAGES,  AND  FAIRS 


123 


almost,  in  some  cases  quite,  independent  of  the  lord  or 
king,  by  the  grant  of  a  charter.  Moreover  they  had  grown 
from  the  mere  trading  centres  of  ancient  times  into  seats  of 
specialized  industries,  regulated  and  organized  by  the  craft- 
gilds.  This  new  feature  of  the  industrial  or  manufacturing 
aspect  of  certain  towns  is  well  shown  in  a  compilation,  dated 
about  1250,  and  quoted  by  Professor  Rogers  in  Six  Cen- 
turies of  Work  and  Wages,  which  gives  a  list  of  English 
towns  and  their  chief  products.  Hardly  any  of  the  manu- 
facturing towns  mentioned  are  in  the  North  of  England,  but 
mostly  in  the  East  and  South. 

The  following  table  gives  the  name  of  the  town,  and  its 
manufacture  or  articles  of  sale. 


Town  Product 

(l)  Textile  manufactures 

Scarlet  cloth 
Blanket 
IJurnet  cloth 
Russet     " 
Linen  fabrics 


Lincoln 
Bligh  .  . 
Beverley  . 
Colchester 
Shaftesbury 
Lewes  .  . 
Aylesbury 
Warwick  . 
Bridi'urt   . 


Cord 

Cord  and  Hempen 
fabrics 


(2)  Bakeries 

Wycombe   .    .    Fine  bread 
Hungerfoki)         "        " 
St.  Albans     . 

(3)  Cutlery 

Maxtead    .    .    Knives 
Wilton  .    .    .    Needles 
Leicester  .    .    Razors 

(4)  Bre-iveries 

Banbury     .    .    Brewing 
1 1  itch  IN      .     . 
Ki.v     .... 


Town  Product 

(5)  Markets 

RiPON Horses 

Nottingham      .    .  O.xen 

Gloucester   .    .    .  Iron 

Bristol Leather  and 

Hides 

Coventry  ....  Soap 

Northampton    .    .  Saddlery 

DoNCASTER     .     .     .  Horse-girths 

Chester     ....  Skins  and 

Furs 
Shrewsbury  ...  " 

Corfe Marble 

Cornwall  towns  Tin 

(6)  Fishing  Towns 
Grimsby     ....    Cod 

Rye Whiting 

Yarmouth     .    .    .    Herrings 
Berwick     ....    Salmon 

(7)  Ports 
Norwich 
Southampton 
DuNWicH   ....    Mills 


124 


READINGS  IN  ENGLISH   HISTORY 


This  list  is  obviously  incomplete,  for  it  omits  towns  like 
Sheffield  and  Winchester,  both  of  which  were  important  as 
manufacturing  towns  from  ver)'  early  times,  though  the  woollen 
manufactures  of  the  latter  were  soon  outstripped  by  those  of 
Hull,  York,  Beverley,  Lincoln,  and  especially  Norwich.  But 
such  as  it  is  the  list  is  curious,  chiefly  as  showing  how  manu- 
factures have  long  since  deserted  their  original  abodes,  and 
have  been  transferred  to  towns  of  quite  recent  origin. 

2.  Staple  towns  and  the  merchants.  —  It  will  have  been 
obser\-ed  that  by  the  time  this  list  was  compiled,  most  towns 
were  either  the  seat  of  a  certain  manufacture,  or  the  market 
where  such  manufactures  were  sold.  Now,  in  the  davs  of 
Edward  I.  and  Edward  II.  (i 272-1 327)  several  such  towns 
were  specially  singled  out  and  granted  the  privilege  of  sell- 
ing a  particular  product,  the  staple  of  the  district,  and  were 
hence  called  staple  toiuns.  Besides  a  number  of  towns  in 
England,  staples  were  fixed  at  certain  foreign  ports  for  the 
sale  of  English  goods.  At  first  Antwerp  was  selected  as  the 
staple  town  for  our  produce,  and  afterwards  St.  Omer.  A 
staple  was  also  set  up  at  Calais  when  we  took  it  (1347),  but 
at  the  loss  of  that  town  in  1558  it  was  transferred  to  Bruges. 
The  staple  system  thus  begun  by  the  first  two  Edwards,  was 
established  upon  a  firm  legal  basis  by  Edward  III.  The 
statute  27  Edward  III.  c.  9  (1354),  enumerates  all  the  staple 
towns  of  England,  and  sets  forth  the  ancient  customs  pay- 
able upon  staple  goods.  It  enacts  that  only  merchants  of  a 
particular  staple,  i.e.  those  engaged  in  a  particular  trade  like 
wool  or  hides,  may  export  these  goods,  and  that  each  staple 
should  be  governed  by  its  own  mayor  and  constables.  Now, 
although  regulations  like  these  are  opposed  to  our  modern 
ideas  of  free  competition,  they  were  to  a  certain  extent  useful 
in  the  Middle  Ages,  because  the  existence  of  staple  towns 
facilitated  the  collection  of  custom  duties,  and  also  secured  in 


TOWNS,  INDUSTRIAL   \  iLl.AGKS,  AM)   FAIRS      125 

some  degree  the  good  quality  of  the  goods  made  in,  or  ex- 
ported from,  a  town.  For  special  officers  were  appointed  to 
mark  them  if  of  the  proper  quality  and  reject  them  if  inferior. 
The  system  also  had  the  important /^/zyzVa/ result  of  bringing 
into  prominence  the  merchants  as  a  class,  and  of  increasing 
their  influence.  So  much  were  they  a  special  class,  that  the 
sovereign  always  negotiated  with  them  separately.  Thus  in 
1339,  when  Edward  III.  was  as  usual  fighting  against  France, 
and,  also  as  usual,  in  great  want  of  money,  he  was  liberally 
supplied  with  loans  by  Sir  William  de  la  Pole,  a  rich  mer- 
chant of  Hull,  who  acted  on  behalf  of  himself  and  many 
other  merchants.  Sir  Richard  Whittington  performed  simi- 
lar services  for  Henry  IV.  and  Henry  V. 

3.  Markets.  —  Another  class  of  towns  were  the  country 
market  towns,  many  of  which  exist  in  agricultural  districts 
to-day,  in  much  the  same  fashion  as  they  did  six  centuries 
ago.  The  control  and  regulation  of  the  town  market  was  at 
first  in  the  hands  of  the  lord  of  the  manor,  but  by  this  period 
it  had  been  bought  by  the  corporation  or  by  the  merchant  gild, 
or  by  both,  and  was  now  one  of  the  most  valued  of  municipal 
privileges.  The  market-place  was  always  some  large  open 
space  within  the  city  walls,  such  as,  for  instance,  exists  very' 
noticeably  in  Nottingham  to  this  day.  London  had  several 
such  spaces,  of  which  the  names  Cornhill,  Cheapside,  the 
Poultry,  still  remain.  The  capital  was  indeed  a  perpetual 
market,  though  of  course  provincial  towns  only  held  a  market 
on  one  or  two  days  of  the  week.  It  is  curious  to  notice 
how  these  days  have  persisted  to  modern  times.  The  Wed- 
nesday and  Saturday  market  of  Oxford  has  existed  for  at 
least  six  centuries,  if  not  more.  The  control  of  these  mar- 
kets was  undertaken  by  the  corporation  for  various  purposes. 
The  first  of  these  was  to  prevent  frauds  and  adulteration  of 
goods,  and  for  this  purpose  special  officers  were  appointed, 


126  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

as  in  the  staple  towns.  .  .  .  This  was  possible  in  a  time 
when  industry  was  limited,  and  the  competitive  idea  was 
as  yet  unborn,  and  one  cannot  help  thinking  that  it  must 
have  been  of  great  use  to  purchasers.  The  second  object  of 
the  regulators  of  the  market  was  to  keep  prices  at  a  "natu- 
ral level,"  and  to  regulate  the  cost  of  manufactured  articles. 
The  price  of  provisions  in  especial  was  a  subject  of  much 
regulation,  but  our  forefathers  were  not  very  successful  in 
this  point,  laudable  though  their  object  was. 

4.  The  great  fairs.  —  Now,  besides  the  weekly  markets 
there  were  held  annually  in  various  parts  of  the  kingdom 
large  fairs,  which  often  lasted  many  days,  and  which  form  a 
most  important  and  interesting  economic  feature  of  the  time. 
They  were  necessary  for  two  reasons  :  (i)  because  the  ordi- 
nary trader  could  not  and  did  not  exist  in  the  small  villages, 
in  which  it  must  be  remembered  most  of  the  population 
lived,  nor  could  he  even  find  sufficient  customers  in  a  town 
of  that  time,  for  very  few  contained  over  5000  inhabitants  ; 
(2)  because  the  inhabitants  of  the  villages  and  towns  could 
find  in  the  fairs  a  wider  market  for  their  goods,  and  more 
variety  for  their  purchases.  The  result  was  that  these  fairs 
were  frequented  by  all  classes  of  the  population,  from  noble 
and  prelate  to  the  villein,  .and  hardly  a  family  in  England  did 
not  at  one  time  of  the  year  or  another  send  a  representa- 
tive, or  at  least  give  a  commission  to  a  friend,  to  get  goods 
at  some  celebrated  fair.  They  afforded  an  opportunity  for 
commercial  intercourse  between  inhabitants  of  all  parts  of 
England,  and  with  traders  from  all  parts  of  Europe.  They 
were,  moreover,  a  necessity  arising  from  the  economic  con- 
ditions of  a  time  when  transit  of  goods  was  comparatively 
slow,  and  when  ordinary  people  disliked  travelling  frequently 
or  far  beyond  the  limits  of  their  own  district.  The  spirit  of 
isolation  which  is  so  marked  a  feature  of  the  mediaeval  town 


TOWNS,  INDUSTRIAL  \  ILLAGKS,  ANJJ   lAIRS      127 

or  village  encouraged  this  feeling,  and  except  the  trading  class 
few  people  travelled  about,  and  those  who  did  so  were  re- 
garded with  suspicion.  Till  the  epoch  of  modern  railways,  in 
fact,  fairs  were  a  necessity,  though  now  the  rapidity  of  loco- 
motion and  the  facility  with  which  goods  can  be  ordered  and 
dispatched,  have  annihilated  their  utility  and  rendered  their 
relics  a  nuisance.  But  even  in  the  present  day  there  are  plenty 
of  people  to  be  found  in  rural  districts  who  have  rarely,  and 
sometimes  never,  been  a  dozen  miles  from  their  native  village. 
5.  The  fairs  of  Winchester  and  Stourbridge.  —  Fairs  were 
held  in  every  part  of  the  country  at  various  parts  of  the  year. 
Thus  there  was  a  fair  at  Leeds,  which  for  several  centuries 
served  as  a  centre  where  the  wool-growers  of  Yorkshire  and 
Lancashire  met  English  and  foreign  merchants  from  Hull 
and  other  eastern  ports,  and  sold  them  the  raw  material  that 
was  to  be  worked  up  in  the  looms  of  Flanders.  But  there 
were  a  few  great  fairs  that  eclipsed  all  others  in  magnitude 
and  importance,  and  of  these  two  deserve  special  mention, 
those  at  Winchester  and  Stourbridge,  (i )  That  at  WiiicJicstcr 
was  founded  in  the  reign  of  William  the  Norman,  who  granted 
the  Bishop  of  Winchester  leave  to  hold  a  fair  on  St.  Giles' 
Hill,  for  one  day  in  the  year.  Henry  H.,  however,  granted 
a  charter  for  a  fair  of  sixteen  days.  During  this  time  the 
great  common  was  covered  with  booths  and  tents,  and  divided 
into  streets  called  after  the  name  of  the  goods  sold  therein, 
as,  e.g.,  "The  Draper)^"  "The  Pottery,"  "The  Spicery." 
Tolls  were  levied  on  every  bridge  and  roadway  to  the  fair, 
and  brought  in  a  large  revenue.  The  fair  was  of  importance 
till  the  fourteenth  centur)%  for  in  the  Msion  of  Peres  the 
Plowman,   Covetousness  tells  how 

"  To  Wye  and  to  Winchester  I  went  to  the  fair." 
But  it  declined  from  the  time  of  Edward  HI.,  chieflv  owing 


128  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

to  the  fact  that  the  woollen  trade  of  Norwich  and  other  east- 
ern towns  had  become  far  more  important,  while  on  the 
other  hand  Southampton  was  found  to  be  a  more  convenient 
spot  for  the  Venetian  traders'  fleet  to  do  business. 

(2)  Stourbridge  Fair.  —  But  the  greatest  of  all  English 
fairs,  and  that  which  kept  its  reputation  and  importance  the 
longest,  was  the  Fair  of  Stourbridge,  near  Cambridge.  It  was 
of  European  renown,  and  lasted  for  a  whole  month,  from  the 
end  of  August  to  the  end  of  September.  Its  importance  was 
due  to  the  fact  that  it  was  within  easy  reach  of  the  ports  of 
the  east  coast,  which  at  that  time  were  very  accessible  and 
much  frequented.  Hither  came  the  Venetian  and  Genoese 
merchants,  with  stores  of  Eastern  produce  —  silks  and  velvets, 
cotton,  and  precious  stones.  The  Flemish  merchants  brought 
the  fine  linens  and  cloths  of  Bruges,  Liege,  and  Ghent,  and 
other  manufacturing  towns.  Frenchmen  and  Spaniards  were 
present  with  their  wines ;  Norwegian  sailors  with  tar  and 
pitch  ;  and  the  mighty  traders  of  the  Hanse  towns  exposed 
for  sale  furs  and  amber  for  the  rich,  iron  and  copper  for  the 
farmers,  flax  for  their  wives  ;  while  homely  fustian,  buckram, 
wax,  herrings,  and  canvas  mingled  incongruously  in  their 
booths  with  strange,  far-off  Eastern  spices  and  ornaments. 
And  in  return  the  English  farmers  —  or  traders  on  their 
behalf  —  carried  to  the  fair  hundreds  of  huge  wool-sacks, 
wherewith  to  clothe  the  nations  of  Europe  ;  or  barley  for 
the  Flemish  breweries,  with  corn  and  horses  and  cattle  also. 
Lead  was  brought  from  the  mines  of  Derbyshire,  and  tin 
from  Cornwall ;  even  some  iron  from  Sussex,  but  this  was 
accounted  inferior  to  the  imported  metal.  All  these  wares 
were,  as  at  Winchester,  exposed  in  stalls  and  tents  in  long 
streets,  some  named  after  the  various  nations  that  congre- 
gated there,  and  others  after  the  kind  of  goods  on  sale.  This 
vast  fair  lasted  down  to  the  eighteenth  century  in  unabated 


MEDLKVAL  TOWNS  AND  (HLDS  129 

vigour,  and  was  at  that  time  descriJDed  by  Daniel  Defoe,  in 
a  work  now  easily  accessible  to  all,  which  contains  a  most 
interesting  description  of  all  the  proceedings  of  this  busy 
month.  It  is  not  much  more  than  a  hundred  years  ago  that 
the  Lancashire  merchants  alone  used  to  send  their  goods  to 
Stourbridge  upon  a  thousand  pack-horses,  but  now  the  pack- 
horses  and  fairs  have  gone,  and  the  telegraph  and  railway 
have  taken  their  place. 


Number  22 
MEDIyEVAL  TOWNS  AND  GILDS 

Edward  P.  Cheyney.    Readings  in  English  //is'to?y,,Tp-p.  20S-211. 

The  period  in  which  most  of  the  large  towns  obtained  their 
first  charters  was  during  the  reigns  of  Henry  II,  Richard,  and 
John  ;  but  it  was  during  the  period  covered  by  this  chapter,  the 
thirteenth  and  early  fourteenth  centuries,  that  they  first  became 
really  important.  Each  city  or  borough  of  any  size  in  England 
had  a  charter,  somewhat  like  that  of  Lincoln,  which  is  here 
given,  granting  or  confirming  to  it  various  rights  and  privileges 
of  self-government. 

Henry,  ])y  the  grace  of  God  king  of  England,  duke  of 
Normandy  and  Aquitaine,  count  of  Anjou,  to  the  bishop  of 
Lincoln,  justiciars,  sheriffs,  barons,  officers,  and  all  his  faith- 
ful, h^rench  and  English,  of  Lincoln,  greeting.  Know  that  I 
have  conceded  to  my  citizens  of  Lincoln  all  their  liberties  and 
customs  and  laws,  which  they  had  in  the  time  of  Edward  and 
William  and  Henry,  kings  of  England  ;  and  their  gild  mer- 
chant of  the  men  of  the  city  and  of  other  merchants  of  the 
county,  just  as  they  had  it  in  the  time  of  our  aforesaid  prede- 
cessors, kings  of  luigland,  best  and  most  freely.  And  all  men 
who  dwell  within  the  four  divisions  of  the  citv  and  attend 


i:>0  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

the  market  are  to  be  at  the  gilds  and  customs  and  assizes 
of  the  city  as  they  have  been  best  in  the  time  of  Edward, 
Wilham,  and  Henry,  kings  of  England.  I  grant  to  them, 
moreover,  that  if  any  one  shall  buy  any  land  within  the  city, 
of  the  burgage  of  Lincoln,  and  shall  have  held  it  for  a  year 
and  a  day  without  any  claim,  and  he  who  has  bought  it  is  able 
to  show  that  the  claimant  has  been  in  the  land  of  England 
within  the  year  and  has  not  claimed  it,  for  the  future  as  be- 
fore he  shall  hold  it  well  and  in  peace,  and  without  any  pros- 
ecution. I  confirm  also  to  them,  that  if  any  one  shall  have 
remained  in  the  city  of  Lincoln  for  a  year  and  a  day  without 
claim  on  the  part  of  any  claimant,  and  has  given  the  customs, 
and  is  able  to  show  by  the  laws  and  customs  of  the  city  that 
the  claimant  has  been  in  the  land  of  England  and  has  not 
made  a  claim  against  him,  for  the  future  as  in  the  past  he 
shall  remain  in  peace,  in  my  city  of  Lincoln,  as  my  citizen. 
Witnesses,  E.,  bishop  of  Lisieux ;  Thomas,  chancellor;  H,, 
constable  ;  Henry  of  Essex,  constable.    At  Nottingham. 

The  early  craft  gilds  seldom  had  charters.  Bodies  of  rules  or 
ordinances  were  drawn  up  by  their  leading  members,  approved  by 
the  town  authorities,  and  became  the  basis  of  their  legal  existence. 
These  were  added  to  or  changed  from  time  to  time.  The  ordi- 
nances of  the  spur  makers,  here  given,  are  fairly  representative  of 
the  rules  of  a  vast  number  of  such  organized  trades  in  London 
and  other  cities  and  towns. 

Be  it  remembered  that  on  Tuesday,  the  morrow  of  St.  Peter's 
Chains,  in  the  nineteenth  year  of  the  reign  of  King  Edward 
HI,  the  articles  underwritten  were  read  before  John  Ham- 
mond, mayor,  Roger  de  Depham,  recorder,  and  the  other 
aldermen  ;  and  seeing  that  the  same  were  deemed  befitting, 
they  were  accepted  and  enrolled  in  these  words. 

In  the  first  place,  that  no  one  of  the  trade  of  spurriers  shall 
work  longer  than  from  the  beginning  of  the  day  until  curfew 


MEDIyEVAL    I'OWNS   AMJ   (ilLiJS  i;i 

rung  out  at  the  church  of  St.  Sepulcher,  without  Newgate  ; 
by  reason  that  no  man  can  work  so  neatly  by  night  as  by  day. 
And  many  persons  of  the  said  trade,  who  compass  how  to 
practice  deception  in  their  work,  desire  to  work  by  night  rather 
than  by  day  ;  and  then  they  introduce  false  iron,  and  iron  that 
has  been  cracked,  for  tin,  and  also  they  put  gilt  on  false  cop- 
per, and  cracked.  And  further,  many  of  the  said  trade  are 
wandering  about  all  day,  without  working  at  all  at  their  trade  ; 
and  then,  when  they  have  become  drunk  and  frantic,  they 
take  to  their  work,  to  the  annoyance  of  the  sick,  and  all  their 
neighborhood,  by  reason  of  the  broils  that  arise  between  them 
and  the  strange  folks  who  are  dwelling  among  them. 

And  then  they  proceed  to  blow  up  their  fires  so  vigorously 
that  their  forges  begin  all  at  once  to  blaze,  to  the  great  peril 
of  themselves  and  of  all  the  neighborhood  around.  And  then, 
too,  all  the  neighbors  are  much  in  dread  of  the  sparks,  which 
so  vigorously  issue  forth  in  all  directions  from  the  mouths  of 
the  chimneys  in  their  forges.  By  reason  thereof  it  seems  best 
that  working  by  night  should  be  put  an  end  to,  in  order  to 
avoid  such  false  work  and  such  perils ;  and  therefore  the  mayor 
and  the  aldermen  do  will,  by  the  assent  of  the  good  folks 
of  the  said  trade,  and  for  the  common  profit,  that  from  hence- 
forth such  time  for  working,  and  such  false  work  made  in  the 
trade,  shall  be  forbidden.  And  if  any  person  shall  be  found 
in  the  said  trade  to  do  the  contrary  hereof,  let  him  be  amerced, 
the  first  time  in  40(^j!'.,  one  half  thereof  to  go  to  the  use  of  the 
Chamber  of  the  Guildhall  of  London,  and  the  other  half  to 
the  use  of  the  said  trade ;  the  second  time,  in  half  a  mark,  and 
the  third  time  in  los.,  to  the  use  of  the  same  Chamber  and 
trade  ;  and  the  fourth  time,  let  him  forswear  the  trade  forever. 

Also  that  no  one  of  the  said  trade  shall  hang  his  spurs  out 
on  Sundays  or  any  other  days  that  are  double  feasts  ;  but  only 
a  sign  indicating  his  business ;  and  such  spurs  as  they  shall 


n,2  READIxXGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

so  sell  they  are  to  show  and  sell  within  their  shops,  without 
exposing  them  without,  or  opening  the  doors  or  windows  of 
their  shops,  on  the  pain  aforesaid. 

Also,  that  no  one  of  the  said  trade  shall  keep  a  house  or 
shop  to  carry  on  his  business,  unless  he  is  free  of  the  city ; 
and  that  no  one  shall  cause  to  be  sold,  or  exposed  for  sale, 
any  manner  of  old  spurs  for  new  ones,  or  shall  garnish  them 
or  change  them  for  new  ones. 

Also,  that  no  one  of  the  said  trade  shall  take  an  apprentice 
for  a  less  term  than  seven  years,  and  such  apprentice  shall  be 
enrolled  according  to  the  usages  of  the  said  city. 

Also,  that  if  any  one  of  the  said  trade,  who  is  not  a  free- 
man, shall  take  an  apprentice  for  a  term  of  years,  he  shall  be 
amerced  as  aforesaid. 

Also,  that  no  one  of  the  said  trade  shall  receive  the  appren- 
tice, serving  man,  or  journeyman  of  another  in  the  same  trade, 
during  the  term  agreed  upon  between  his  master  and  him,  on 
the  pain  aforesaid. 

Also,  that  no  alien  of  another  country,  or  foreigner  of  this 
country,  shall  follow  or  use  the  said  trade,  unless  he  is  en- 
franchised before  the  mayor,  alderman,  and  chamberlain  ;  and 
that,  by  witness  and  surety  of  the  good  folks  of  the  said  trade, 
who  will  undertake  for  him,  as  to  his  loyalty  and  his  good 
behavior. 

Also,  that  no  one  of  the  said  trade  shall  work  on  Saturdays, 
after  noon  has  been  rung  out  in  the  city  ;  and  not  from  that 
hour  until  the  Monday  morning  following. 

The  more  charitable  side  of  the  craft  gilds  comes  out  in  the 
following  extracts  from  the  ordinances  of  the  white-leather  dressers. 

In  honor  of  God,  of  Our  Lady,  and  of  all  saints,  and  for 
the  nurture  of  tranquillity  and  peace  among  the  good  folks, 
the  megucers,  called  white-tawyers,  the  folks  of  the  same 


MEDL'i'.VAl-    TOWNS  AND  (]1LI)S  n,r> 

trade  have,  by  assent  of  Richard  Lacer,  mayor,  and  of  the 
aldermen,  ordained  the  points  underwritten. 

In  the  first  place,  they  have  ordained  that  they  will  find  a 
wax  candle  to  burn  before  Our  Lady  in  the  church  of  Allhal- 
lows,  near  London  wall. 

Also,  that  each  person  of  the  said  trade*  shall  put  in  the 
box  such  sum  as  he  shall  think  fit,  in  aid  of  maintaining  the 
said  candle. 

Also,  if  by  chance  any  one  of  the  said  trade  shall  fall  into 
poverty,  whether  through  old  age  or  because  he  cannot  labor 
or  work,  and  have  nothing  with  which  to  keep  himself,  he 
shall  have  every  week  from  the  said  box  yd.  for  his  support, 
if  he  be  a  man  of  good  repute.  And  after  his  decease,  if  he 
have  a  wife,  a  woman  of  good  repute,  she  shall  have  weekly  for 
her  support  yd.  from  the  said  box,  so  long  as  she  shall  behave 
herself  well  and  keep  single.  .   .  . 

And  if  any  one  of  the  said  trade  shall  have  work  in  his 
house  that  he  cannot  complete,  or  if  for  want  of  assistance 
such  work  shall  be  in  danger  of  being  lost,  those  of  the  said 
trade  shall  aid  him,  that  so  the  said  work  be  not  lost. 

And  if  any  one  of  the  said  trade  shall  depart  this  life,  and 
have  not  wherewithal  to  be  buried,  he  shall  be  buried  at  the 
expense  of  their  common  box.  And  when  any  one  of  the  said 
trade  shall  die,  all  those  of  the  said  trade  shall  go  to  the  vigil 
and  make  offering  on  the  morrow.   .   .  . 


134  READINGS  IX   ENGLISH   HISTORY 

Number  23 

LIFE  AT  OXFORD  UNIVERSITY  IN  THE 
MIDDLE  AGES 

GoLDWiN  Smith.    Oxford  and  her  Colleges,  pp.  25-29,  39-67. 

...  To  recall  the  Oxford  of  the  thirteenth  century,  one 
must  bid  vanish  all  the  buildings  which  now  meet  our  eyes,  ex- 
cept yonder  grim  castle  to  the  west  of  the  city,  and  the  stern 
tower  of  St.  Michael's  Church,  at  once  the  bell  tower  of  the 
Church  and  a  defence  of  the  city  gate  facing  the  dangerous 
north.  The  man-at-arms  from  the  castle,  the  warder  from' 
the  gate,  looks  down  upon  a  city  of  five  or  six  thousand  in- 
habitants, huddled  for  protection  under  the  castle,  and  within 
those  walls  of  which  a  fine  remnant  is  seen  bounding  the  do- 
main of  New  College.  In  this  city  there  is  a  concourse  of 
students  brought  together  to  hear  a  body  of  teachers  who  have 
been  led,  we  know  not  how,  to  open  their  mart  of  knowledge 
here.  Printing  not  having  been  invented,  and  books  being 
scarce,  the  fountain  of  knowledge  is  the  lecture-room  of  the 
professor.  It  is  the  age  of  an  intellectual  revival  so  remarkable 
as  to  be  called  the  Mediaeval  Renaissance.  After  the  migra- 
tions and  convulsions,  by  which  the  world  was  cast  in  a  new 
mould,  ensues  a  reign  of  comparative  peace  and  settled  gov- 
ernment, under  which  the  desire  of  knowledge  has  been  re- 
awakened. Universities  have  been  coming  out  all  over  Europe 
like  stars  in  the  night ;  Paris,  famous  for  theolog}'  and  phi- 
losophy, perhaps  being  the  brightest  of  the  constellation,  while 
Bologna  was  famed  for  law  and  Salerno  for  medicine.  It  was 
probably  in  the  reign  of  Henry  I.  that  the  company  of  teachers 
settled  at  Oxford,  and  before  the  end  of  the  thirteenth  century 
students  had  collected  to  a  number  which  fable  exaggerates 


LIFE  AT  (JXFOKI)   IN  TlIK  MIDIHJ':  ACJKS      135 

to  thirty  thousand,  hut  which  was  really  hr<;e  enough  to  crowd 
the  little  city  and  even  the  bastions  of  its  walls.  A  light  had 
shone  on  youths  who  sat  in  the  shadow  of  feudal  servitude. 
There  is  no  more  romantic  period  in  the  history  of  human 
intellect  than  the  thirteenth  century. 

The  teachers,  after  the  fashion  of  that  age,  formed  them- 
selves into  a  guild,  which  guarded  its  monopoly.  The  under- 
graduate was  the  apprentice  ;  the  degree  was  a  license  to 
teach,  and  carried  with  it  the  duty  of  teaching,  though  in  time 
it  became  a  literary  title,  unconnected  with  teaching,  and 
coveted  for  its  own  sake.  The  University  obtained  a  charter, 
elected  its  Chancellor,  formed  its  academical  Legislature  of 
graduates,  obtained  jurisdiction  over  its  own  members.  In 
time  it  marshalled  its  teachers  and  students  into  regular  Fac- 
ulties of  theology,  law,  and  medicine,  with  arts,  or  general  and 
liberal  culture,  if  the  name  can  be  applied  to  anything  so  rudi- 
mentary as  the  literature  and  science  of  that  day,  forming  the 
basis  of  all.  At  first  the  professors  taught  where  they  could  ; 
in  the  cloisters,  perhaps,  of  St.  Frydeswide's  monastery,  sub- 
sequently absorbed  by  Christ  Church  ;  in  the  porches  of 
houses.  A  row  of  lecture-rooms,  called  the  Schools,  was  after- 
wards provided  in  School  Street,  which  ran  north  and  south 
just  under  the  Radcliffe.  So  little  anchored  was  the  Univer- 
sity by  buildings,  that  when  maltreated  at  Oxford  it  was  ready 
to  pack  up  its  literary  wares  and  migrate  to  another  city  such 
as  Northampton  or  Stamford.   .   .   . 

At  first  the  students  lodged  as  "  Chamberdekyns  "  with  cit- 
izens, but  that  system  proving  dangerous  to  order,  they  were 
gathered  into  hostels,  or,  to  use  the  more  dignified  name. 
Halls  ( a!//(e )  under  a  Principal,  or  Master  of  the  University, 
who  boarded  and  governed  them.  Of  these  Halls  there  were 
a  great  number,  with  their  several  nanies  and  signs.  Till 
lately  a  few  of  thcni  remained,  though  these  had  lost  their 


136  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

original  character,  and  become  merely  small  Colleges,  without 
any  foundation  except  a  Principal.  The  students  in  those 
days  were  mostly  poor.  Their  indigence  was  almost  taken  for 
granted.  Some  of  them  begged  ;  chests  were  provided  by  the 
charitable  for  loans  to  them.  A  poor  student's  life  was  hard  ; 
if  he  was  earnest  in  study,  heroic.  He  shared  a  room  with  three 
or  four  chums,  he  slept  under  a  rug,  his  fare  was  coarse  and 
scanty,  his  garment  was  the  gown  which  has  now  become 
merely  an  academical  symbol,  and  thankful  he  was  to  be  pro- 
vided with  a  new  one.  He  had  no  fire  in  his  room,  no  glass 
in  his  window.  As  his  exercises  in  the  University  Schools  be- 
gan at  five  in  the  morning,  it  is  not  likely  that  he  read  much 
at  night,  otherwise  he  would  have  to  read  by  the  light  of  a 
feeble  lamp  flickering  with  the  wdnd.  His  manuscript  was 
painful  to  read.  The  city  was  filthy,  the  water  polluted  with 
sewage  ;  pestilence  often  swept  through  the  crowded  hive. 

Mediceval  students  were  a  rough  set ;  not  less  rough  than 
enthusiastic ;  rougher  than  the  students  of  the  Ouartier  Latin 
or  Heidelberg,  their  nearest  counterparts  in  recent  times. 
They  wore  arms,  or  kept  them  in  their  chambers,  and  they 
needed  them  not  only  in  going  to  and  from  the  University 
over  roads  beset  with  robbers,  but  in  conflicts  with  the  towns- 
people, with  whom  the  University  was  at  war.  With  the 
townspeople  the  students  had  desperate  affrays,  ancient  pre- 
cursors of  the  comparatively  mild  town  and  gown  rows  of  this 
centur)'.  The  defiant  horns  of  the  town  were  answered  by  the 
bells  of  the  University.  Arrows  flew  ;  blood  was  shed  on  both 
sides ;  Halls  were  stormed  and  defended ;  till  Royalty  from 
Abingdon  or  Woodstock  interfered  with  its  men-at-arms, 
seconded  by  the  Bishop  with  bell,  book,  and  candle.  A  Papal 
Legate,  an  Italian  on  whom  national  feeling  looks  with  jeal- 
ousy, comes  to  Oxford.  Scholars  crowd  to  see  him.  There 
is  a  quarrel  between  them  and  his  train.    His  cook  flings  a 


LIFE  AT  OXFORD  IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES     137 

cauldron  of  boiling  broth  over  an  Irish  student.  The  scholars 
fly  to  arms.  The  Legate  is  ignominiously  chased  from  Ox- 
ford. Excommunications,  royal  thunders,  and  penitential  per- 
formances follow.  Jews  settle  in  Oxford,  ply  their  trade 
among  the  scholars,  and  form  a  quarter  with  invidiously 
wealthy  mansions.  There  is  a  royal  edict,  forbidding  them 
to  exact  more  than  forty-three  per  cent  interest  from  the 
student.  Wealth  makes  them  insolent ;  they  assault  a  relig- 
ious procession,  and  with  them  also  the  students  have  affrays. 
Provincial  feeling  is  strong,  for  the  students  are  divided  into 
two  nations,  the  Northern  and  the  Southern,  which  are  always 
wrangling,  and  sometimes  fight  pitched  battles  with  bows 
and  arrows.  The  two  Proctors,  now  the  heads  of  University 
police,  were  appointed  as  tribunes  of  the  two  nations  to  set- 
tle elections  and  other  matters  between  them  without  battle. 
Amusements  as  well  as  everything  else  were  rude.  Football 
and  other  rough  games  were  played  at  Beaumont,  a  piece  of 
ground  to  the  north  of  the  city  ;  but  there  was  nothing  like 
that  cricket  field  in  the  parks,  nor  like  the  sensation  now  cre- 
ated by  the  appearance  of  a  renowned  cricketer  in  his  pad- 
dings before  an  admiring  crowd,  to  display  the  fruit  of  his 
many  years  of  assiduous  practice  in  guarding  his  stumps.  The 
Crown  and  local  lords  had  to  complain  of  a  good  deal  of 
poaching  in  Bagley,  Woodstock,  Shotover,  and  Stowe  Wood, 
To  this  Oxford,  with  its  crowd  of  youth  thirsting  for 
knowledge,  its  turbulence,  its  vice,  its  danger  from  monkish 
encroachment,  came  Walter  de  Merton,  one  of  the  same  his- 
toric group  as  Grosseteste  and  Grosseteste's  friend,  Adam 
de  Marisco,  the  man  of  the  hour,  with  the  right  device  in 
his  mind.  Merton  had  been  Chancellor  of  Henry  III.  amidst 
the  political  storms  of  the  time,  from  which  he  would  gladly 
turn  aside  to  a  work  of  peaceful  improvement.  It  was  thus 
that  violence  in  those  ages  paid  with  its  left  hand  a  tribute  to 


I  -,S  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

civilisation.    Merton's  foundation  is  the  first  College,  though 
University  and  Balliol  come  before   it  in  the  Calendar  in 
deference  to  the  priority  of  the  benefactions  out  of  which 
those  Colleges  grew.    Yonder  noble  chapel  in  the  Decorated 
style,  with  its  tower  and  the  old  quadrangle  beneath  it,  called, 
nobody  knows  why.  Mob  Quad,  are  the  cradle  of  College 
life.    Merton's  plan  was  an  academical  brotherhood,  which 
combined  monastic  order,  discipline,  and  piety  with  the  pur- 
suit of  knowledge.  No  monk  or  friar  was  ever  to  be  admitted 
to  his  House.    The  members  of  the  House  are  called  in  his 
statutes  by  the  common  name  of  Scholars,  that  of  Fellows 
{Socii),  which  afterwards  prevailed  here  and  in  all  the  other 
Colleges,  denoting  their  union  as  an  academical  household. 
They  were  to  live  like  monks  in  common  ;  they  were  to  take 
their  meals  together  in  the  Refectory,  and  to  study  together 
in  the  common  library,  which  may  still  be  seen,  dark  and 
austere,  with  the  chain  by  which  a  precious  volume  was  at- 
tached to  the  desk.    They  had  not  a  common  dormitory,  but 
they  must  have  slept  two  or  three  in  a  room.    Probably  they 
were  confined  to  their  quadrangle,  except  when  they  were 
attending  the  Schools  of  the  University,  or  allowed  to  leave 
it  only  with  a  companion  as  a  safeguard.    They  were  to  elect 
their  own  Warden,  and  fill  up  by  election  vacancies  in  their  own 
number.    The  Warden  whom  they  had  elected,  they  were  to 
obey.    They  were  to  watch  over  each  other's  lives,  and  hold 
annual  scrutinies  into  conduct.    The  Archbishop  of  Canter- 
bury was  to  visit  the  College  and  see  that  the  rule  was  kept. 
But  the  rule  was  moral  and  academical,   not    cloistral   or 
ascetic.    The  mediaeval  round  of  religious  services  was  to  be 
duly  performed,  and  prayers  were  to  be  said  for  the  Found- 
er's soul.      But  the  main   object  was   not  prayer,   contem- 
plation,  or  masses  for  souls  ;    it  was  study.     Monks  were 
permanently  devoted  to  their  Order,  shut  up  for  life  in  their 


LIFE  AT  OXFORD   L\  THE  MIDDLE  AGES     139 

monastery,  and  secluded  from  the  world.  The  Scholars  of 
Merton  were  destined  to  serve  the  world,  into  which  they 
were  to  go  forth  when  they  had  completed  the  course  of 
preparation  in  their  College.  They  were  destined  to  serve 
the  world  as  their  Founder  had  served  it.  In  fact,  we  find 
Wardens  and  Fellows  of  Merton  employed  by  the  State  and 
the  Church  in  important  missions.  A  Scholar  of  Merton, 
though  he  was  to  obey  the  College  authorities,  took  no 
monastic  vow  of  obedience.  He  took  no  monastic  vow  of 
poverty  ;  on  the  contrary,  it  was  anticipated  that  he  would 
gain  wealth,  of  which  he  was  exhorted  to  bestow  a  portion 
on  his  College,  He  took  no  monastic  vow  of  celibacy,  though, 
as  one  of  the  clerical  order,  he  would  of  course  not  be  per- 
mitted to  marry.  He  was  clerical  as  all  Scholars  in  those 
days  were  clerical,  not  in  the  modern  and  professional  sense 
of  the  term.  Hie  allowances  of  the  Fellow  were  only  his 
Commons,  or  food,  and  his  Livery,  or  raiment,  and  there 
were  to  be  as  many  Fellows  as  the  estate  could  provide  with 
these.  Instruction  was  received  not  in  College,  but  in  the 
Schools  of  the  University,  to  which  the  Scholars  of  Merton, 
like  the  other  Scholars,  were  to  resort.  A  sort  of  grammar 
school,  for  boys  of  the  Founder's  kin,  was  attached  to  the 
College.  But  otherwise  the  work  of  the  College  was  study, 
not  tuition,  nor  did  the  statutes  contemplate  the  admission 
of  any  members  except  those  on  the  foundation. 

Merton's  plan,  meeting  the  need  of  the  hour,  found  accept- 
ance. His  College  became  the  pattern  for  others  both  at 
Oxford  and  Cambridge.  University,  Balliol,  Exeter,  Oriel, 
and  Queen's  were  modelled  after  it,  and  monastic  Orders 
seem  to  have  taken  the  hint  in  founding  Houses  for  their 
novices  at  Oxford.  University  College  grew  out  of  the  bene- 
faction of  William  of  Durham,  an  ecclesiastic  who  had 
studied  at  Paris,  and  left  the  University  a  sum  of  money  for 


140 


READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 


the  maintenance  of  students  of  divinity.  The  University 
lodged  them  in  a  Hall  styled  the  Great  Hall  of  the  Uni- 
versity, which  is  still  the  proper  corporate  name  of  the 
College.  .  .  .  Oriel  was  founded  by  a  court  Almoner, 
Adam  de  Brome,  who  displayed  his  courtliness  by  allow- 
ing his  Scholars  to  speak  French  as  well  as  Latin.  Queen's 
was  founded  by  a  court  Chaplain,  Robert  Egglesfield,  and 
dedicated  to  the  honour  of  his  royal  mistress.  Queen  Phi- 
lippa.  It  was  for  a  Provost  and  twelve  Fellows  who  were 
to  represent  the  number  of  Christ  and  his  disciples,  to  sit 
at  a  table  as  Egglesfield  had  seen  in  a  picture  the  Thir- 
teen sitting  at  the  Last  Supper,  though  in  crimson  robes. 
Egglesfield's  building  has  been  swept  away  to  make  room 
for  the  Palladian  palace  on  its  site.  But  his  name  is  kept 
in  mind  by  the  quaint  custom  of  giving,  on  his  day,  a 
needle  {aigidlle)  to  each  member  of  the  foundation,  with 
the  injunction.  Take  that  and  be  thrifty.  Yonder  stone 
eagles  too  on  the  building  recall  it.  Exeter  College  was  the 
work  of  a  political  Bishop  who  met  his  death  in  a  London 
insurrection. 

As  the  fashion  of  founding  Colleges  grew,  that  of  found- 
ing Monasteries  decreased,  and  the  more  as  the  mediaeval 
faith  declined,  and  the  great  change  drew  near.  That  change 
was  heralded  by  the  appearance  of  Wycliffe,  a  genuine  off- 
spring of  the  University,  for  while  he  was  the  great  religious 
reformer,  he  was  also  the  great  scholastic  philosopher  of  his 
day.  To  what  College  or  Hall  his  name  and  fame  belong  is 
a  moot  point  among  antiquaries.  We  would  fain  imagine 
him  in  his  meditations  pacing  the  old  Mob  Quadrangle  of 
Merton.  His  teaching  took  strong  and  long  hold  of  the 
University.  His  reforming  company  of  '"  poor  priests  "  drew 
with  it  the  spiritual  aspiration  and  energy  of  Oxford  youth. 
But  if  his  movement  has  left  any  traces  in  the  shape  of 


IJFE  AT  OXFORD  IN  THE  MIDDFE  AGES     141 

foundations,  it  is  in  the  shape  of  loundations  produced  by 
the  reaction  against  it,  and  destined  for  its  overthrow. 

Yonder  rises  the  bell  tower  of  New  College  over  a  famous 
group  of  buildings,  with  ample  quadrangle,  rich  religious 
chapel,  a  noble  I  lall  and  range  of  tranquil  cloisters,  defaced 
only  by  the  addition  of  a  modern  upper  story  to  the  quad- 
rangle and  Vandalic  adaptation  of  the  upper  windows  to 
modern  convenience.  This  pile  was  the  work  of  William  of 
Wykeham,  l^ishop  of  Winchester,  a  typical  character  of  the 
Middle  Ages,  prelate,  statesman,  and  court  architect  in  one, 
who  negotiated  the  peace  of  Bretigny  and  built  Windsor 
Castle.  The  eye  of  the  great  architect  as  well  as  of  the  pious 
Founder  must  have  ranged  with  delight  over  his  fair  creation. 
It  is  likely  that  New  College,  as  a  foundation  highly  religious 
in  its  character,  was  intended  to  counteract  Wyclififism  as 
well  as  to  replenish  the  clergy  which  had  been  decimated  by 
the  Black  Death.  Wykeham  was  a  reformer  in  liis  way,  and 
one  of  the  party  headed  by  the  Black  Prince  which  strove 
to  correct  the  abuses  of  the  court  in  the  dark  decline  of 
Edward  III.  But  he  was  a  conservative,  religious  after  the 
orthodox  fashion,  and  devoted  to  the  worship  of  the  Virgin, 
to  whom  his  College  was  dedicated,  after  whom  it  was  named, 
and  whose  image  surmounts  its  gate.  The  College  of  St. 
Mary  of  Winton  his  foundation  was  entitled.  In  its  day  it 
might  well  be  called  New  College.  New  it  was  in  its  scale, 
having  seventy  F'ellows  and  Scholars  besides  ten  Chaplains, 
three  Clerks,  and  sixteen  Choristers  for  the  services  of  the 
Chapel,  which  is  still  famous  for  its  choir.  New  it  was  in 
the  extent  and  magnificence  of  its  buildings.  New  it  was  in 
the  provision  made  for  solemn  services  in  its  Chapel,  for 
religious  processions  round  its  cloisters,  for  the  daily  orisons 
of  all  its  members.  New  it  was  in  the  state  assigned  to  its 
Warden,  who  was  not  to  be  like  the  W^arden  of  Merton,  only 


142 


READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 


the  first  among  his  humble  peers,  Hving  with  them  at  the 
common  board,  but  to  resemble  more  a  great  Abbot  with 
a  separate  establishment  of  his  own,  keeping  a  sumptuous 
hospitality  and  drawn  by  six  horses  when  he  went  abroad. 
New  it  was  in  having  undergraduates  as  well  as  graduates  on 
the  foundation,  and  providing  for  the  training  of  the  youth 
during  the  whole  interval  between  school  and  the  highest 
University  degree.  Even  further  back  than  the  time  of 
admittance  to  the  University,  stretched  the  care  of  the 
reformer  of  education.  The  most  important  novelty  of  all, 
perhaps,  in  his  creation,  was  the  connection  between  his 
College  and  the  school  which  he  founded  at  Winchester,  his 
cathedral  city,  to  feed  his  College  with  a  constant  supply  of 
model  Scholars.  This  was  the  first  of  those  great  Public 
Schools  which  have  largely  moulded  the  character  of  the  rul- 
ing class  in  England.  The  example  was  followed  by  Henry 
VI.  in  connecting  King's  College,  Cambridge,  with  Eaton, 
and  would  have  been  followed  by  Wolsey  had  he  carried  out 
his  design  of  connecting  Cardinal  College  with  his  school  at 
Ipswich.  From  the  admission  of  an  undergraduate  element 
into  the  College  it  naturally  followed  that  there  should  be  in- 
struction of  the  juniors  by  the  seniors,  and  superintendence 
of  study  within  the  College  walls.  This  was  yet  another 
novelty,  and  Wykeham  seems  to  have  had  an  additional 
motive  for  adopting  it  in  the  low  condition  of  the  University 
Schools,  from  the  exercises  of  which  attention  had  perhaps 
been  diverted  by  the  religious  movement.  In  the  careful 
provision  for  the  study  of  Grammatica,  that  is,  the  elements 
of  Latin,  we  perhaps  see  a  gleam  of  the  Renaissance,  as  the 
style  of  the  buildings  belonging  to  the  last  order  of  mediaeval 
architecture  indicates  that  the  Middle  Age  was  hastening  to 
its  close.  But  it  was  one  of  Wykeham's  objects  to  strengthen 
the  orthodox  priesthood  in  a  time  of  revolutionary  peril.    Ten 


LIFE  AT  OXFORD   IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES 


143 


of  his  Fellows  were  assigned  to  the  study  of  civil,  ten  to  that 
of  canon,  law.  Two  were  permitted  to  study  medicine.  All 
the  rest  were  to  be  theologians.  The  F\)undcr  was  false  to 
his  own  generous  design  in  giving  a  paramount  and  perpet- 
ual preference  in  the  election  of  Fellows  to  his  kin,  who, 
being  numerous,  became  at  length  a  fearful  incubus  on  his 
institution.  It  is  not  likely  that  his  own  idea  of  kinship  was 
unlimited,  or  extended  beyond  the  tenth  degree.  All  the 
Fellows  and  Scholars  were  to  be  poor  and  indigent.  This 
was  in  unison  with  the  mediaeval  spirit  of  almsgiving  as  well 
as  with  the  mediaeval  theory  of  poverty  as  a  state  spiritually 
superior,  held,  though  not  embodied,  by  wealthy  prelates. 
Study,  not  teaching,  it  is  always  to  be  remembered,  was  the 
principal  duty  of  those  who  were  to  eat  the  Founder's  bread. 
The  Statutes  of  New  College  are  elaborate,  and  w^ere 
largely  copied  by  other  founders.  They  present  to  us  a  half- 
monastic  life,  with  the  general  hue  of  asceticism  which  per- 
vades everything  mediaeval.  Here,  as  in  the  case  of  Merton, 
there  are  no  vows,  but  there  is  strict  discipline,  with  frugal 
fare.  The  Commons,  or  allowances  for  food,  are  not  to  ex- 
ceed twelve  pence  per  week,  except  in  the  times  of  dearth. 
Once  a  year  there  is  an  allowance  of  cloth  for  a  gown.  There 
is  a  chest  for  loans  to  the  very  needy,  but  there  is  no  stipend. 
The  Warden  rules  with  abbatial  power,  though  in  greater 
matters  he  requires  the  consent  of  the  Fellows,  and  is  himself 
under  the  censorship  of  the  Visitor,  the  Bishop  of  Winchester, 
who,  however,  rarely  interposed.  Evciy  year  he  goes  on 
"  progress  "  to  view  the  College  estates,  there  being  in  those 
days  no  agents,  and  is  received  by  tenants  with  homage  and 
rural  hospitality.  The  Fellows  and  Scholars  are  lodged  three 
or  four  in  a  room,  the  seniors  as  monitors  to  the  juniors. 
Each  Scholar  undergoes  two  years  of  probation.  As  in  a 
baronial  hall  the  nobles,  so  in  the  College  Hall  the  seniors, 


144  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

occupy  the  dais,  or  high  table,  while  the  juniors  sit  at  tables 
arranged  down  the  Hall.    In  the  dining-hall  the  Fellows  and 
Scholars  sit  in  silence,  and  listen  to  the  reading  of  the  Bible. 
In  speaking  they  must  use  no  tongue  but  the  Latin.    There 
is  to  be  no  lingering  in  the  Hall  after  dinner,  except  when  in 
winter  a  fire  is  lighted  on  some  church  festival.    Then  it  is 
permitted  to  remain  awhile  and  rehearse  poems,  or  talk  about 
the  chronicles  of  the  kingdom,  the  wonders  of  the  world,  and 
other  things  befitting  clerical  discourse.    This  seems  to  be  the 
principal  concession  made  to  the  youthful  love  of  amusement. 
As  a  rule,  it  appears  that  the  students  were  confined  to  the 
College  and  its  cloisters  when  they  were  not  attending  the 
Schools  of  the  University.  They  are  forbidden  to  keep  hounds 
or  hawks,  as  well  as  to  throw  stones  or  indulge  in  any  rough 
or  noisy  sports.     The  injunctions  against  spilling  wine  and 
slops  in  the  upper  rooms,  or  beer  on  the  floor  of  the  Hall,  to 
the  annoyance  of  those  who  lodged  beneath,  betoken  a  rough 
style  of  living  and  rude  manners.    The  admission  of  strangers 
is  jealously  restricted,  and  on  no  account  must  a  woman  enter 
the  College,  except  a  laundress,  who  must  be  of  safe  age. 
There  were  daily  prayers  for  the  Founder's  soul,  daily  masses, 
and  fifty  times  each  day  every  member  of  the  College  was  to 
repeat  the  salutation  to  the  Virgin.    The  Founder's  obit  was 
to  be  celebrated  with  special  pomp.    Self-love  in  a  mediaeval 
ascetic  was  not  annihilated  by  humility,  though  it  took  a  re- 
ligious form.    Thrice  every  year  are  held  scrutinies  into  life 
and  conduct,  at  which  the  hateful  practice  of  secret  denun- 
ciation is  admitted,  and  the  accused  is  forbidden  to  call  for 
the  name  of  his  accuser.     Every  cloistered  society,  whether 
monastic  or  academic,  is  pretty  sure  to  seethe  with  cabals, 
suspicions,  and  slanders.    Leave  of  absence  from  the  College 
was  by  statute  very  sparingly  allowed,  and  seldom  could  the 
young  Scholar  pay  what,  in  the  days  before  the  letter  post, 


BRUCE'S  ADDRESS  TO  HIS  ARMY  145 

must  have  been  angel's  visits  lo  the  old  people  on  the  paternal 
homestead.  The  ecclesiastical  and  ascetic  system  of  the  Mid- 
dle Ages  had  litde  regard  for  domestic  affection.  It  treated 
the  boy  as  entirely  the  child  of  the  Church.  In  times  of  pes- 
tilence, then  common,  the  inmates  of  the  Colleges  usually 
went  to  some  farm  or  grange  belonging  to  the  College  in  the 
neighborhood  of  Oxford,  and  those  were  probably  pleasant 
days  for  the  younger  members.  Oaths  of  fearful  length  and 
stringency  were  taken  to  the  observation  of  the  statutes.  They 
proved  sad  traps  for  conscience  when  the  statutes  had  become 
obsolete,  a  contingency  of  which  the  Founders,  ignorant  of 
progress  and  evolution,  never  dreamed. 


Number  24 

BRUCE'S  ADDRESS  TO  HIS  ARMY  AT 
BANNOCKBURN 

Robert  Burns.   Scots,  Wha  Hae. 

I 

Scots,  wha  hae  wi'  Wallace  bled, 
Scots,  wham  Bruce  has  aften  led. 
Welcome  to  your  gory  bed, 
Or  to  victorie ! 

II 

Now's  the  day,  and  now's  the  hour : 
See  the  front  o'  battle  lour, 
See  approach  proud  Edward's  power  — 
Chains  and  slaverie ! 


146  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH   HISTORY 

III 

Wha  will  be  a  traitor  knave  ? 
Wha  can  fill  a  coward's  grave  ? 
Wha  sae  base  as  be  a  slave  ?  — 
Let  him  turn,  and  flee ! 

IV 

Wha  for  Scotland's  King  and  Law 
Freedom's  sword  will  strongly  draw^ 
Freeman  stand  or  freeman  fa', 
Let  him  follow  me  ! 


V 


By  Oppression's  woes  and  pains, 
By  your  sons  in  servile  chains, 
We  will  drain  our  dearest  veins 
But  they  shall  be  free  ! 

VI 

Lay  the  proud  usurpers  low  ! 
Tyrants  fall  in  every  foe  ! 
Liberty's  in  every  blow  ! 

Let  us  do,  or  die ! 


THE  BATTLE  OF  CRESSY  147 

N^imhcr  25 
THE  BATTLE  OF  CRESSY 

Froissart.    Chronicles,  chaps,  cxxviii-cxxx.    Translated  by  T.ord  Berners. 
This  selection  is  from  a  translation  of  the  famous  Chronicles  of  Froissart, 
a  Frenchman  who  came  to  England  in  the  service  of  Queen  PhiHppa.    He 
had  a  chance  to  know  personally  the  nobles  who  took  part  in  the  Hundred 
Years'  War. 

On  the  Friday,  as  I  said  before,  the  king  of  England  lay 
in  the  fields,  for  the  country  was  plentiful  of  wines  and  other 
victual,  and  if  need  had  been,  they  had  provision  following  in 
carts  and  other  carriages.  That  night  the  king  made  a  supper 
to  all  his  chief  lords  of  his  host  and  made  them  good  cheer ; 
and  when  they  were  all  departed  to  take  their  rest,  then  the 
king  entered  into  his  oratory  and  kneeled  down  before  the 
altar,  praying  God  devoutly,  that  if  he  fought  the  next  day, 
that  he  might  achieve  the  journey  to  his  honour  :  then  about 
midnight  he  laid  him  down  to  rest,  and  in  the  morning  he 
rose  betimes  and  heard  mass,  and  the  prince  his  son  with 
him,  and  the  most  part  of  his  company  were  confessed  and 
houselled ;  and  after  the  mass  said,  he  commanded  every 
man  to  be  armed  and  to  draw  to  the  field  to  the  same  place 
before  appointed.  Then  the  king  caused  a  park  to  be  made 
by  the  wood  side  behind  his  host,  and  there  was  set  all  carts 
and  carriages,  and  within  the  park  were  all  their  horses,  for 
every  man  was  afoot ;  and  into  this  park  there  was  but  one 
entry.  Then  he  ordained  three  battles  ^ :  in  the  first  was  the 
young  prince  of  Wales,  with  him  the  earl  of  Warwick  and 
Oxford,  the  lord  Godfrey  of  Harcourt,  sir  Raynold  Cobham, 
sir  Thomas  Holland,  the  lord  Stafl'ord,  the  lord  of  Mohun, 
the  lord  Delaware,  sir  John  Chandos,  sir  Bartholomew  de 
Burghersh,  sir  Robert  Nevill,  the  lord  Thomas  Clifford,  the 

1  Battalions. 


148  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

lord  Bourchier,  the  lord  de  Latimer,  and  divers  other  knights 
and  squires  that  I  cannot  name  :  they  were  an  eight  hundred 
men  of  arms  and  two  thousand  archers,  and  a  thousand  of 
other  with  the  Welshmen  :  ever)^  lord  drew  to  the  field  ap- 
pointed under  his  own  banner  and  pennon.  In  the  second 
battle  was  the  earl  of  Northampton,  the  earl  of  Arundel,  the 
lord  Ros,  the  lord  Lucy,  the  lord  Willoughby,  the  lord 
Basset,  the  lord  of  Saint-Aubin,  sir  Louis  Tufton,  the  lord  of 
Multon,  the  lord  Lascelles  and  divers  other,  about  an  eight 
hundred  men  of  arms  and  twelve  hundred  archers.  The  third 
battle  had  the  king  :  he  had  seven  hundred  men  of  arms  and 
two  thousand  archers.  Then  the  king  leapt  on  a  hobby,  with 
a  white  rod  in  his  hand,  one  of  his  marshals  on  the  one  hand, 
and  the  other  on  the  other  hand  :  he  rode  from  rank  to  rank 
desiring  every  man  to  take  heed  that  day  to  his  right  and 
honour.  He  spake  it  so  sweetly  and  with  so  good  countenance 
and  merry  cheer,  that  all  such  as  were  discomfited  took  cour- 
age in  the  seeing  and  hearing  of  him.  And  when  he  had 
thus  visited  all  his  batdes,  it  was  then  nine  of  the  day :  then 
he  caused  every  man  to  eat  and  drink  a  little,  and  so  they 
did  at  their  leisure.  And  afterward  they  ordered  again  their 
battles  :  then  every  man  lay  down  on  the  earth  and  by  him 
his  salet  and  bow,  to  be  the  more  fresher  when  their  enemies 
should  come. 

This  Saturday  the  French  king  rose  betimes  and  heard 
mass  in  Abbeville  in  his  lodging  in  the  abbey  of  Saint  Peter, 
and  he  departed  after  the  sun-rising.  When  he  was  out  of  the 
town  two  leagues,  approaching  toward  his  enemies,  some  of 
his  lords  said  to  him  :  '  Sir,  it  were  good  that  ye  ordered 
your  battles,  and  let  all  your  footmen  pass  somewhat  on  be- 
fore, that  they  be  not  troubled  with  the  horsemen.'  Then  the 
king  sent  four  knights,  the  Moine  [of]  Bazeilles,  the  lord 
of  Noyers,  the  lord  of  Beaujeu  and  the  lord  d'Aubigny  to 


THE  UATTLE  OF  CRESSY 


149 


ride  to  aview  the  English  host ;  and  so  they  rode  so  near  that 
they  might  well  see  part  of  their  dealing.  The  Englishmen 
saw  them  well  and  knew  well  how  they  were  come  thither  to 
aview  them :  they  let  them  alone  and  made  no  countenance 
toward  them,  and  let  them  return  as  they  came.  And  when  the 
French  king  saw  these  four  knights  return  again,  he  tarried 
till  they  came  to  him  and  said  :  '  Sirs,  what  tidings  .'' '  These 
four  knights  each  of  them  looked  on  other,  for  there  was  none 
would  speak  before  his  companion  ;  finally  the  king  said  to 
[the]  Moine,  who  pertained  to  the  king  of  Bohemia  and  had 
done  in  his  days  so  much,  that  he  was  reputed  for  one  of  the 
valiantest  knights  of  the  world  :  '  Sir,  speak  you.'  Then  he 
said  :  '  Sir,  I  shall  speak,  sith  it  pleaseth  you,  under  the  cor- 
rection of  my  fellows.  Sir,  we  have  ridden  and  seen  the  be- 
having of  your  enemies  :  know  ye  for  truth  they  are  rested  in 
three  battles  abiding  for  you.  Sir,  I  will  counsel  you  as  for  my 
part,  saving  your  displeasure,  that  you  and  all  your  company 
rest  here  and  lodge  for  this  night :  for  or  they  that  be  behind 
of  your  company  be  come  hither,  and  or  your  battles  be  set  in 
good  order,  it  will  be  ver)-  late,  and  your  people  be  weary  and 
out  of  array,  and  ye  shall  find  your  enemies  fresh  and  ready 
to  receix'e  you.  Early  in  the  morning  ye  may  order  your  battles 
at  more  leisure  and  advise  your  enemies  at  more  deliberation, 
and  to  regard  well  what  way  ye  will  assail  them  ;  for,  sir, 
surely  they  will  abide  you.' 

Then  the  king  commanded  that  it  should  be  so  done. 
Then  his  two  marshals  one  rode  before,  another  behind,  say- 
ing to  every  banner :  '  Tarry  and  abide  here  in  the  name  of 
God  and  Saint  Denis.'  They  that  were  foremost  tarried,  but 
they  that  were  behind  would  not  tarry,  but  rode  forth,  and 
said  how  they  would  in  no  wise  abide  till  they  were  as  far 
forward  as  the  foremost :  and  when  they  before  saw  them 
come  on  behind,  then  they  rode  forward  again,  so  that  the 


I50 


READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 


king  nor  his  marshals  could  not  rule  them.  So  they  rode 
without  order  or  good  array,  till  they  came  in  sight  of  their 
enemies  :  and  as  soon  as  the  foremost  saw  them,  they  re- 
culed  then  aback  without  good  array,  whereof  they  behind 
had  marvel  and  were  abashed,  and  thought  that  the  foremost 
company  had  been  fighting.  Then  they  might  have  had  lei- 
sure and  room  to  have  gone  forward,  if  they  had  list :  some 
went  forth  and  some  abode  still.  The  commons,  of  whom  all 
the  ways  between  Abbeville  and  Cressy  were  full,  when  they 
saw  that  they  were  near  to  their  enemies,  they  took  their 
swords  and  cried  :  "  Down  with  them  !  let  us  slay  them  all.' 
There  is  no  man,  though  he  were  present  at  the  journey,  that 
could  imagine  or  shew  the  truth  of  the  evil  order  that  was 
among  the  French  party,  and  yet  they  were  a  mar\'ellous 
great  number.  That  I  write  in  this  book  I  learned  it  specially 
of  the  Englishmen,  who  well  beheld  their  dealing ;  and  also 
certain  knights  of  sir  John  of  Hainault's,  who  was  always 
about  king  Philip,  shewed  me  as  they  knew. 

The  Englishmen,  who  were  in  three  battles  lying  on  the 
ground  to  rest  them,  as  soon  as  they  saw  the  Frenchmen  ap- 
proach, they  rose  upon  their  feet  fair  and  easily  without  any 
haste  and  arranged  their  battles.  The  first,  which 'was  the 
prince's  battle,  the  archers  there  stood  in  manner  of  a  herse  ^ 
and  the  men  of  arms  in  the  bottom  of  the  battle.  The  earl 
of  Northampton  and  the  earl  of  Arundel  with  the  second 
battle  were  on  a  wing  in  good  order,  ready  to  comfort  the 
prince's  battle,  if  need  were. 

The  lords  and  knights  of  France  came  not  to  the  assem- 
bly together  in  good  order,  for  some  came  before  and  some 
came  after  in  such  haste  and  evil  order,  that  one  of  them  did 
trouble  another.  When  the  French  king  saw  the  Englishmen, 
his  blood  changed,  and  said  to  his  marshals  :    '  Make  the 

1  Harrow. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  CRESSY  151 

Genoways  go  on  before  and  begin  the  battle  in  the  name  of 
God  and  Saint  Denis.'  There  were  of  the  Genoways  cross- 
bows about  a  fifteen  thousand,  but  they  were  so  weary  of  going 
afoot  that  day  a  six  leagues  armed  with  their  cross-bows,  that 
they  said  to  their  constables  :  '  We  be  not  well  ordered  to 
fight  this  day,  for  we  be  not  in  the  case  to  do  any  great  deed 
of  arms  :  we  have  more  need  of  rest.'  These  words  came  to 
the  earl  of  Alengon,  who  said  :  '  A  man  is  well  at  ease  to  be 
charged  with  such  a  sort  of  rascals,  to  be  faint  and  fail  now  at 
most  need.'  Also  the  same  season  there  fell  a  great  rain  and 
a  clipse  with  a  terrible  thunder,  and  before  the  rain  there  came 
flying  over  both  battles  a  great  number  of  crows  for  fear  of 
the  tempest  coming.  Then  anon  the  air  began  to  wax  clear, 
and  the  sun  to  shine  fair  and  bright,  the  which  was  right 
in  the  Frenchmen's  eyen  and  on  the  Englishmen's  backs. 
When  the  Genoways  were  assembled  together  and  began  to 
approach,  they  made  a  great  leap  and  cry  to  abash  the  Eng- 
lishmen, but  they  stood  still  and  stirred  not  for  all  that :  then 
the  Genoways  again  the  second  time  made  another  leap  and 
a  fell  cry,  and  stept  forward  a  little,  and  the  Englishmen 
removed  not  one  foot :  thirdly,  again  they  leapt  and  cried, 
and  went  forth  till  they  came  within  shot ;  then  they  shot 
fiercely  with  their  cross-bows.  Then  the  English  archers 
stept  forth  one  pace  and  let  fly  their  arrows  so  wholly 
[together]  and  so  thick,  that  it  seemed  snow.  When  the 
Genoways  felt  the  arrows  piercing  through  heads,  arms  and 
breasts,  manv  of  them  cast  down  their  cross-bows  and  did  cut 
their  strings  and  returned  discomfited.  When  the  French 
king  saw  them  fly  away,  he  said  :  '  Slay  these  rascals,  for  they 
shall  let  and  trouble  us  without  reason.'  Then  ye  should  have 
seen  the  men  of  arms  dash  in  among  them  and  killed  a  great 
number  of  them  :  and  ever  still  the  Englishmen  shot  whereas 
they  saw  thickest  press  ;  the  sharp  arrows  ran  into  the  men  of 


152  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH   HISTORY 

arms  and  into  their  horses,  and  many  fell,  horse  and  men, 
among  the  Genoways,  and  when  they  were  down,  they  could 
not  relieve  again,  the  press  was  so  thick  that  one  overthrew 
another.  And  also  among  the  Englishmen  there  were  certain 
rascals  that  went  afoot  with  great  knives,  and  they  went  in 
among  the  men  of  arms,  and  slew  and  murdered  many  as  they 
lay  on  the  ground,  both  earls,  barons,  knights  and  squires, 
whereof  the  king  of  England  was  after  displeased,  for  he  had 
rather  they  had  been  taken  prisoners. 

The  valiant  king  of  Bohemia  called  Charles  of  Luxem- 
bourg, son  to  the  noble  emperor  Henry  of  Luxembourg,  for  all 
that  he  was  nigh  blind,  when  he  understood  the  order  of  the 
battle,  he  said  to  them  about  him  :  '  Where  is  the  lord  Charles 
my  son  ? '  His  men  said  :  '  Sir,  we  cannot  tell ;  we  think  he 
be  fighting.'  Then  he  said  :  '  Sirs,  ye  are  my  men,  my  com- 
panions and  friends  in  this  journey  :  I  require  you  bring  me 
so  far  forward,  that  I  may  strike  one  stroke  with  my  sword.' 
They  said  they  would  do  his  commandment,  and  to  the  intent 
that  they  should  not  lose  him  in  the  press,  they  tied  all  their 
reins  of  their  bridles  each  to  other  and  set  the  king  before  to 
accomplish  his  desire,  and  so  they  went  on  their  enemies. 
The  lord  Charles  of  Bohemia  his  son,  who  wrote  himself 
king  of  Almaine  and  bare  the  arms,  he  came  in  good  order 
to  the  battle  ;  but  when  he  saw  that  the  matter  went  awry  on 
their  party,  he  departed,  I  cannot  tell  you  which  way.  The 
king  his  father  was  so  far  forward  that  he  strake  a  stroke 
with  his  sword,  yea  and  more  than  four,  and  fought  valiantly 
and  so  did  his  company  ;  and  they  adventured  themselves  so 
forward,  that  they  were  there  all  slain,  and  the  next  day  they 
were  found  in  the  place  about  the  king,  and  all  their  horses 
tied  each  to  other. 

The  earl  of  Alen^on  came  to  the  battle  right  ordinately  and 
fought  with  the  Englishmen,  and  the  earl  of  Flanders  also  on 


THE  BATTLE  OF  CRESSY  153 

his  part.  These  two  lords  with  their  companies  coasted  the 
EngHsh  archers  and  came  to  the  prince's  battle,  and  there 
fought  valiantly  long.  The  French  king  would  fain  have  come 
thither,  when  he  saw  their  banners,  but  there  was  a  great 
hedge  of  archers  before  him.  The  same  day  the  PVench  king 
had  given  a  great  black  courser  to  sir  John  of  Hainault,  and 
he  made  the  lord  Thierry  of  Senzeille  to  ride  on  him  and 
to  bear  his  banner.  The  same  horse  took  the  bridle  in  the 
teeth  and  brought  him  through  all  the  currours  of  the  English- 
men, and  as  he  would  have  returned  again,  he  fell  in  a  great 
dike  and  was  sore  hurt,  and  had  been  there  dead,  an  his 
page  had  not  been,  who  followed  him  through  all  the  battles 
and  saw  where  his  master  lay  in  the  dike,  and  had  none 
other  let  but  for  his  horse,  for  the  Englishmen  would  not 
issue  out  of  their  battle  for  taking  of  any  prisoner.  Then  the 
page  alighted  and  relieved  his  master  :  then  he  went  not 
back  again  the  same  way  that  they  came,  there  was  too  many 
in  his  way. 

The  battle  between  Broye  and  Cressy  this  Saturday  was 
right  cruel  and  fell,  and  many  a  feat  of  arms  done  that  came 
not  to  my  knowledge.  In  the  night  divers  knights  and  squires 
lost  their  masters,  and  sometime  came  on  the  Englishmen, 
who  received  them  in  such  wise  that  they  were  ever  nigh 
slain  ;  for  there  was  none  taken  to  mercy  nor  to  ransom,  for 
so  the  Englishmen  were  determined. 

In  the  morning  the  day  of  the  battle  certain  Frenchmen 
and  Almains  perforce  opened  the  archers  of  the  prince's  battle 
and  came  and  fought  with  the  men  of  arms  hand  to  hand. 
Then  the  second  battle  of  the  Englishmen  came  to  succour  the 
prince's  battle,  the  which  was  time,  for  they  had  as  then  much 
ado  ;  and  they  with  the  prince  sent  a  messenger  to  the  king, 
who  was  on  a  little  windmill  hill.  Then  the  knight  said  to 
the  king :  '  Sir,  the  earl  of  Warwick  and  the  earl  of  Oxford, 


154  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

sir  Raynold  Cobham  and  other,  such  as  be  about  the  prince 
your  son,  are  fiercely  fought  withal  and  are  sore  handled  ; 
wherefore  they  desire  you  that  you  and  your  battle  will  come 
and  aid  them  ;  for  if  the  Frenchmen  increase,  as  they  doubt 
they  will,  your  son  and  they  shall  have  much  ado.'  Then 
the  king  said  :  '  Is  my  son  dead  or  hurt  or  on  the  earth 
felled  ? '  '  No,  sir,'  quoth  the  knight,  '  but  he  is  hardly 
matched  ;  wherefore  he  hath  need  of  your  aid.'  '  Well,'  said 
the  king,  '  return  to  him  and  to  them  that  sent  you  hither, 
and  say  to  them  that  they  send  no  more  to  me  for  any  adven- 
ture that  falleth,  as  long  as  my  son  is  alive  :  and  also  say  to 
them  that  they  suffer  him  this  day  to  win  his  spurs ;  for  if 
God  be  pleased,  I  will  this  journey  be  his  and  the  honour 
thereof,  and  to  them  that  be  about  him.'  Then  the  knight 
returned  again  to  them  and  shewed  the  king's  words,  the 
which  greatly  encouraged  them,  and  repoined  in  that  they 
had  sent  to  the  king  as  they  did. 

Sir  Godfrey  of  Harcourt  would  gladly  that  the  earl  of 
Harcourt  his  brother  might  have  been  saved  ;  for  he  heard 
say  by  them  that  saw  his  banner  how  that  he  was  there  in  the 
field  on  the  French  party  :  but  sir  Godfrey  could  not  come  to 
him  betimes,  for  he  was  slain  or  he  could  come  at  him,  and 
so  was  also  the  earl  of  Aumale  his  nephew.  In  another  place 
the  earl  of  Alen^on  and  the  earl  of  Flanders  fought  valiantly, 
every  lord  under  his  own  banner ;  but  finally  they  could  not 
resist  against  the  puissance  of  the  Englishmen,  and  so  there 
they  were  also  slain,  and  divers  other  knights  and  squires. 
Also  the  earl  Louis  of  Blois,  nephew  to  the  French  king, 
and  the  duke  of  Lorraine  fought  under  their  banners,  but 
at  last  they  were  closed  in  among  a  company  of  English- 
men and  Welshmen,  and  there  were  slain  for  all  their 
prowess.  Also  there  was  slain  the  earl  of  Auxerre,  the 
earl  of   Saint-Pol  and   many  other. 


THE  BATTLE  OK  CRESSY  155 

In  the  evening  the  French  king,  who  had  left  about  him 
no  more  than  a  three-score  persons,  one  and  other,  whereof 
sir  John  of  Hainault  was  one,  who  had  remounted  once  the 
kine:,  for  his  horse  was  slain  with  an  arrrow,  then  he  said  to 
the  king :  '  Sir,  depart  hence,  for  it  is  time  ;  lose  not  yourself 
wilfully  :  if  ye  have  loss  at  this  time,  ye  shall  recover  it  again 
another  season.'  And  so  he  took  the  king's  horse  by  the 
bridle  and  led  him  away  in  a  manner  perforce.  Then  the  king 
rode  till  he  came  to  the  castle  of  Broye.  The  gate  was  closed, 
because  it  was  by  that  time  dark :  then  the  king  called  the 
captain,  who  came  to  the  walls  and  said  :  '  Who  is  that  calleth 
there  this  time  of  night .? '  Then  the  king  said  :  "  Open  your 
gate  quickly,  for  this  is  the  fortune  of  France.'  The  captain 
knew  then  it  was  the  king,  and  opened  the  gate  and  let 
down  the  bridge.  Then  the  king  entered,  and  he  had  with 
him  but  five  barons,  sir  John  of  Hainault,  sir  Charles  of 
Montmorency,  the  lord  of  Beaujeu,  the  lord  d'Aubigny 
and  the  lord  of  Montsault.  The  king  would  not  tarry  there, 
but  drank  and  departed  thence  about  midnight,  and  so  rode 
by  such  guides  as  knew  the  country  till  he  came  in  the 
morning  to  Amiens,  and  there  he  rested. 

This  Saturday  the  Englishmen  never  departed  from  their 
battles  for  chasing  of  any  man,  but  kept  still  their  field,  and 
ever  defended  themselves  against  all  such  as  came  to  assail 
them.    This  battle  ended  about  evensong  time. 


156  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

Number  26 
THE  SIEGE  OF  CALAIS 

Froissart.    Chy-onicles,  chaps,  cxxxiii,  cxlvi.  Translated  by  Lord  Berners. 
For  the  author  see  Number  25,  above. 

.  .  ,  When  the  king  of  England  was  come  before  Calais, 
he  laid  his  siege  and  ordained  bastides  between  the  town  and 
the  river  :  he  made  carpenters  to  make  houses  and  lodgings 
of  great  timber,  and  set  the  houses  like  streets  and  covered 
them  with  reed  and  broom,  so  that  it  was  like  a  little  town  ; 
and  there  was  everything  to  sell,  and  a  market-place  to  be 
kept  every  Tuesday  and  Saturday  for  flesh  and  fish,  mercery 
ware,  houses  for  cloth,  for  bread,  wine  and  all  other  things 
necessary,  such  as  came  out  of  England  or  out  of  Flanders ; 
there  they  might  buy  what  they  list.  The  Englishmen  ran 
oftentimes  into  the  country  of  Guines,  and  into  Ternois,  and 
to  the  gates  of  Saint-Omer's,  and  sometime  to  Boulogne ; 
they  brought  into  their  host  great  preys.  The  king  would  not 
assail  the  town  of  Calais,  for  he  thought  it  but  a  lost  labour : 
he  spared  his  people  and  his  artillery,  and  said  how  he  would 
famish  them  in  the  town  with  long  siege,  without  the  French 
king  come  and  raise  his  siege  perforce. 

When  the  captain  of  Calais  saw  the  manner  and  the  order 
of  the  Englishmen,  then  he  constrained  all  poor  and  mean 
people  to  issue  out  of  the  town,  and  on  a  Wednesday  there 
issued  out  of  men,  women  and  children  more  than  seventeen 
hundred  ;  and  as  they  passed  through  the  host,  they  were 
demanded  why  they  departed,  and  they  answered  and  said, 
because  they  had  nothing  to  live  on  :  then  the  king  did  them 
that  grace  that  he  suffered  them  to  pass  through  his  host 
without  danger,  and  gave  them  meat  and  drink  to  dinner, 


THE  SIEGE  OF  CALAIS  1 57 

and  every  person  two  pence  sterling  in  alms,  for  the  which 
divers  many  of  them  prayed  for  the  king's  prosperity. 

Summary  of  Chapters  CXLIV-CXLV.  The  French  king  raised  an 
army  to  relieve  Calais,  but  the  passages  were  so  well  kept,  that  he  could  not 
approach.    N^egotiations  for  peace  were  withotit  effect. 

After  that  the  French  king  was  thus  departed  from  San- 
gate,  they  within  Calais  saw  well  how  their  succour  failed 
them,  for  the  which  they  were  in  great  sorrow.  Then  they 
desired  so  much  their  captain,  sir  John  of  Vienne,  that  he 
went  to  the  walls  of  the  town  and  made  a  sign  to  speak  with 
some  person  of  the  host.  When  the  king  heard  thereof, 
he  sent  thither  sir  Gaultier  of  Manny  and  sir  Basset.  Then 
sir  John  of  Vienne  said  to  them  :  '  Sirs,  ye  be  right  valiant 
knights  in  deeds  of  arms,  and  ye  know  well  how  the  king 
my  master  hath  sent  me  and  other  to  this  town  and  com- 
manded us  to  keep  it  to  his  behoof  in  such  wise  that  we  take 
no  blame,  nor  to  him  no  damage  ;  and  we  have  done  all  that 
lieth  in  our  power.  Now  our  succours  hath  failed  us,  and  we 
be  so  sore  strained,  that  we  have  not  to  live  withal,  but  that 
we  must  all  die  or  else  enrage  for  famine,  without  the  noble 
and  gentle  king  of  yours  will  take  mercy  on  us  :  the  which  to 
do  we  require  you  to  desire  him,  to  have  pity  on  us  and  to  let 
us  go  and  depart  as  we  be,  and  let  him  take  the  town  and 
castle  and  all  the  goods  that  be  therein,  the  which  is  great 
abundance.'  Then  sir  Gaultier  of  Manny  said  :  '  Sir,  we  know 
somewhat  of  the  intention  of  the  king  our  master,  for  he  hath 
shewed  it  unto  us  :  surely  know  for  truth  it  is  not  his  mind 
that  ye  nor  they  within  the  town  should  depart  so,  for  it  is 
his  will  that  ye  all  should  put  yourselves  into  his  pure  will,  to 
ransom  all  such  as  pleaseth  liini  and  to  put  to  death  such  as 
he  list ;  for  they  of  Calais  hath  done  him  such  contraries  and 
despites,  and  hath  caused  him  to  dispend  so  much  good,  and 


158  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

lost  many  of  his  men,  that  he  is  sore  grieved  against  them.' 
Then  the  captain  said  :  '  Sir,  this  is  too  hard  a  matter  to  us. 
We  are  here  within,  a  small  sort  of  knights  and  squires,  who 
hath  truly  served  the  king  our  master  as  well  as  ye  serve  yours 
in  like  case.  And  we  have  endured  much  pain  and  unease  ;  but 
we  shall  yet  endure  as  much  pain  as  ever  knights  did,  rather 
than  to  consent  that  the  worst  lad  in  the  town  should  have  any 
more  evil  than  the  greatest  of  us  all :  therefore,  sir,  we  pray 
you  that  of  your  humility,  yet  that  ye  will  go  and  speak  to  the 
king  of  England  and  desire  him  to  have  pity  of  us  ;  for  we 
trust  in  him  so  much  gentleness,  that  by  the  grace  of  God  his 
purpose  shall  change.' 

Sir  Gaultier  of  Manny  and  sir  Basset  returned  to  the  king 
and  declared  to  him  all  that  had  been  said.  The  king  said 
he  would  none  otherwise  but  that  they  should  yield  them  up 
simply  to  his  pleasure.  Then  Sir  Gaultier  said  :  '  Sir,  saving 
your  displeasure,  in  this  ye  may  be  in  the  wrong,  for  ye  shall 
give  by  this  an  evil  ensample  :  if  ye  send  any  of  us  your  serv- 
ants into  any  fortress,  we  will  not  be  very  glad  to  go,  if  ye  put 
any  of  them  in  the  town  to  death  after  they  be  yielded  ;  for 
in  like  wise  they  will  deal  with  us,  if  the  case  fell  like.'  The 
which  words  divers  other  lords  that  were  there  present  sus- 
tained and  maintained.  Then  the  king  said  :  '  Sirs,  I  will  not 
be  alone  against  you  all ;  therefore,  sir  Gaultier  of  Manny,  ye 
shall  go  and  say  to  the  captain  that  all  the  grace  that  he  shall 
find  now  in  me  is  that  they  let  six  of  the  chief  burgesses  of 
the  town  come  out  bare-headed,  bare-footed,  and  bare-legged, 
and  in  their  shirts,  with  halters  about  their  necks,  with  the 
keys  of  the  town  and  castle  in  their  hands,  and  let  them  six 
yield  themselves  purely  to  my  will,  and  the  residue  I  will  take 
to  mercy.' 

Then  sir  Gaultier  returned  and  found  sir  John  of  Vienne 
still  on  the  wall,  abiding  for  an  answer.    Then  sir  Gaultier 


THE  SIEGE  OF  CALAIS  1 59 

shewed  him  all  ihe  grace  that  he  could  get  of  the  king.  '  Well,' 
quoth  sir  John,  '  sir,  I  require  you  tarry  here  a  certain  space 
till  I  go  into  the  town  and  shew  this  to  the  commons  of  the 
town,  who  sent  me  hither.  Then  sir  John  went  unto  the  mar- 
ket-place and  sowned  the  common  bell :  then  incontinent  men 
and  women  assembled  there  :  then  the  captain  made  report  of 
all  that  he  had  done,  and  said,  '  Sirs,  it  will  be  none  otherwise  ; 
therefore  now  take  advice  and  make  a  short  answer.'  Then 
all  the  people  began  to  weep  and  to  make  such  sorrow,  that 
there  was  not  so  hard  a  heart,  if  they  had  seen  them,  but  that 
would  have  had  great  pity  of  them  :  the  captain  himself  wept 
piteously.  At  last  the  most  rich  burgess  of  all  the  town,  called 
Eustace  of  Saint-Pierre,  rose  up  and  said  openly  :  '  Sirs,  great 
and  small,  great  mischief  it  should  be  to  suffer  to  die  such 
people  as  be  in  this  town,  other  by  famine  or  otherwise,  when 
there  is  a  mean  to  save  them.  I  think  he  or  they  should  have 
great  merit  of  our  Lord  God  that  might  keep  them  from  such 
mischief.  As  for  my  part,  I  have  so  good  trust  in  our  Lord 
God,  that  if  I  die  in  the  quarrel  to  save  the  residue,  that  (rod 
would  pardon  me  :  wherefore  to  save  them  I  will  be  the  first 
to  put  my  life  in  jeopardy.'  When  he  had  thus  said,  every 
man  worshipped  him  and  divers  kneeled  down  at  his  feet 
with  sore  weeping  and  sore  sighs.  Then  another  honest  bur- 
gess rose  and  said  :  '  I  will  keep  company  with  my  gossip 
Eustace.'  He  was  called  John  d'Aire.  Then  rose  up  Jaques 
of  Wissant,  who  was  rich  in  goods  and  heritage  ;  he  said  also 
that  he  would  hold  company  with  his  two  cousins.  In  like 
wise  so  did  Peter  of  W^issant  his  brother :  and  then  rose  two 
other ;  they  said  they  would  do  the  same.  Then  they  went 
and  apparelled  them  as  the  king  desired. 

Then  the  captain  went  with  them  to  the  gate  :  there  was 
great  lamentation  made  of  men,  women  and  children  at  their 
departing :  then  the  gate  was  opened  and  he  issued  out  with 


l6o  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

the  six  burgesses  and  closed  the  gate  again,  so  that  they 
were  between  the  gate  and  the  barriers.  Then  he  said  to 
sir  Gaultier  of  Manny  :  '  Sir,  I  dehver  here  to  you  as  captain 
of  Calais  by  the  whole  consent  of  all  the  people  of  the  town 
these  six  burgesses,  and  I  swear  to  you  truly  that  they  be  and 
were  today  most  honourable,  rich  and  most  notable  burgesses 
of  all  the  town  of  Calais.  Wherefore,  gentle  knight,  I  require 
you  pray  the  king  to  have  mercy  on  them,  that  they  die  not.' 
Quoth  sir  Gaultier  :  '  I  cannot  say  what  the  king  will  do,  but 
I  shall  do  for  them  the  best  I  can.'  Then  the  barriers  were 
opened,  the  six  burgesses  went  towards  the  king,  and  the 
captain  entered  again  into  the  town. 

When  sir  Gaultier  presented  these  burgesses  to  the  king, 
they  kneeled  down  and  held  up  their  hands  and  said :  '  Gentle 
king,  behold  here  we  six,  who  were  burgesses  of  Calais  and 
great  merchants;  we  have  brought  to  you  the  keys  of  the 
town  and  of  the  castle  and  we  submit  ourselves  clearly  into 
your  will  and  pleasure,  to  save  the  residue  of  the  people  of 
Calais,  who  have  suffered  great  pain.  Sir,  we  beseech  your 
grace  to  have  mercy  and  pity  on  us  through  your  high 
nobless.'  Then  all  the  earls  and  barons  and  other  that  were 
there  wept  for  pity.  The  king  looked  felly  on  them,  for 
greatly  he  hated  the  people  of  Calais  for  the  great  damages 
and  displeasures  they  had  done  him  on  the  sea  before.  Then 
he  commanded  their  heads  to  be  stricken  off :  then  every 
man  required  the  king  for  mercy,  but  he  would  hear  no  man 
in  that  behalf  :  then  sir  Gaultier  of  Manny  said  :  '  Ah,  noble 
king,  for  God's  sake  refrain  your  courage  :  ye  have  the  name 
of  sovereign  nobless ;  therefore  now  do  not  a  thing  that 
should  blemish  your  renown,  nor  to  give  cause  to  some  to 
speak  of  you  villainy.  Every  man  will  say  it  is  a  great  cruelty 
to  put  to  death  such  honest  persons,  who  by  their  own  wills 
put  themselves  into  your  grace  to  save  their  company.'  Then 


EDWARD  THE  BLACK  PRINCE  i6l 

the  king  wr)'cd  away  from  him  and  commanded  to  send  for 
the  hangman,  and  said  :  "  They  of  Calais  have  caused  many 
of  my  men  to  be  slain,  wherefore  these  shall  die  in  like  wise.' 
Then  the  queen,  .  .  .  kneeled  down  and  sore  weeping  said  : 
'  Ah,  gentle  sir,  sith  I  passed  the  sea  in  great  peril,  I  have 
desired  nothing  of  you  ;  therefore  now  I  humbly  require  you 
in  the  honour  of  the  Son  of  the  Virgin  Mary  and  for  the  love 
of  me  that  ye  will  take  mercy  of  these  six  burgesses.'  The 
king  beheld  the  queen  and  stood  still  in  a  study  a  space,  and 
then  said  :  'Ah,  dame,  I  would  ye  had  been  as  now  in  some 
other  place ;  ye  make  such  request  to  me  that  I  cannot  deny 
you.  Wherefore  I  give  them  to  you,  to  do  your  pleasure  with 
them.'  Then  the  queen  caused  them  to  be  brought  into  her 
chamber,  and  made  the  halters  to  be  taken  from  their  necks, 
and  caused  them  to  be  new  clothed,  and  gave  them  their 
dinner  at  their  leisure  :  and  then  she  gave  each  of  them  six 
nobles  and  made  them  to  be  brought  out  of  the  host  in 
safe-guard  and  set  at  their  liberty. 


Number  2'j 
EDWARD  THE  BLACK  PRINCE 

A.  P.  Stanley,  //istorical  Memorials  of  Canterbioy,  pp.  132-160,  passim. 
This  account  is  taken  from  a  lecture  delivered  at  Canterbury  in  1852. 
The  tomb  and  effigy  of  the  Black  Prince  are  among  the  most  interesting 
monuments  in  Canterbury  Cathedral.  Over  the  tomb  hang  the  Prince's 
surcoat,  gauntlets,  helmet,  and  shield. 

.  .  .  Let  US  place  ourselves  in  imagination  by  the  tomb  of 
the  most  illustrious  layman  who  rests  among  us,  ICdward  Plan- 
tagenet,  Prince  of  Wales,  commonly  called  the  Black  Prince. 
Let  us  ask  whose  likeness  it  is  that  we  there  see  stretched 
before  us  —  why  was  he  buried  in  this  place,  amongst  the 


1 62  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

Archbishops  and  sacred  shrines  of  former  times  —  what  can 
we  learn  from  his  hfe  or  his  death  ? 

[1330.]  A  few  words  must  first  be  given  to  his  birth  and 
childhood.  He  was  born  on  the  15th  of  June,  1330,  at  the 
old  palace  of  Woodstock,  near  Oxford,  from  which  he  was 
sometimes  called  Prince  Edward  of  Woodstock.  He  was 
you  will  remember,  the  eldest  son  of  King  Edward  HI.  and 
Queen  Philippa,  a  point  always  to  be  remembered  in  his  his- 
tory, because,  like  Alexander  the  Great,  and  a  few  other  em- 
inent instances,  he  is  one  of  those  men  in  whom  the  peculiar 
qualities  both  of  his  father  and  his  mother  were  equally  exem- 
plified. Every  one  knows  the  story  of  the  siege  of  Calais,  of 
the  sternness  of  King  Edward  and  the  gendeness  of  Queen 
Philippa,  and  it  is  the  union  of  these  qualities  in  their  son  which 
gave  him  the  exact  place  which  he  occupies  in  the  succession 
of  our  English  princes,  and  in  the  history  of  Europe.   .   .   . 

We  now  pass  to  the  next  events  of  his  life  ;  those  which 
have  really  made  him  almost  as  famous  in  war,  as  Wycliffe 
has  been  in  peace  —  the  two  great  battles  of  Cressy  and  of 
Poitiers.  I  will  not  now  go  into  the  origin  of  the  war,  of  which 
these  two  battles  formed  the  turning-points.  It  is  enough 
for  us  to  remember  that  it  was  undertaken  by  Edward  III. 
to  gain  the  crown  of  France,  a  claim,  through  his  mother, 
which  he  had  solemnly  relinquished,  but  which  he  now  re- 
sumed to  satisfy  the  scruples  of  his  allies,  the  citizens  of 
Ghent,  who  thought  that  their  oath  of  allegiance  to  the 
"  Kins  of  France,"  would  be  redeemed  if  their  leader  did 
but  bear  the  name. 

[1346.]  And  now,  first  for  Cressy.  .  .  .  On  the  top  of  a 
windmill,  of  which  the  solid  tower  still  is  to  be  seen  on  the 
ridge  overhanging  the  field,  the  King,  for  whatever  reason, 
remained  bareheaded,  whilst  the  young  Prince,  who  had  been 
knighted  a  month  before,  went  forward  with  his  companions 


EDWARD  HIE  BLACK   PRINCE  163 

in  arms,  into  the  very  thick  of  the  fray  ;  and  when  his  father 
saw  that  the  victory  was  virtually  gained,  he  forebore  to  inter- 
fere. "  Let  the  child  ^viii  his  spurs,"  he  said,  in  words  which 
have  since  become  a  proverb,  "  and  let  the  day  be  his.''  The 
Prince  was  in  very  great  danger  at  one  moment ;  he  was 
wounded  and  thrown  to  the  ground,  and  only  saved  by 
Richard  de  Beaumont,  who  carried  the  great  banner  of  Wales, 
throwing  the  banner  over  the  boy  as  he  lay  on  the  ground,  and 
standing  upon  it  till  he  had  driven  back  the  assailants.  The 
assailants  were  driven  back,  and  far  through  the  long  summer 
evening,  and  deep  into  the  summer  night,  the  battle  raged.  It 
was  not  till  all  was  dark,  that  the  Prince  and  his  companions 
halted  from  their  pursuit ;  and  then  huge  fires  and  torches 
were  lit  up,  that  the  King  might  see  where  they  were.  And 
then  took  place  the  touching  interview  between  the  father  and 
the  son  ;  the  King  embracing  the  boy  in  front  of  the  whole 
army,  by  the  red  light  of  the  blazing  fires,  and  saying, 
"  Sweet  SON,  God  give  yoii  good  perseverance  ;  yon  are  my 
true  son — rigJit  loyally  have  yon  acqiiitted yourself  this  day, 
and  ivorthy  atr  you  of  a  crown,'' — and  the  young  Prince, 
after  the  reverential  manner  of  those  times,  ' '  bowed  to  the 
ground,  and  gave  all  the  honour  to  the  King  his  father." 
The  next  day  the  King  walked  over  the  field  of  carnage  with 
the  Prince,  and  said,  "  What  think  yon  of  a  battle,  is  it  an 
agreeable  game  ?  " 

The  general  result  of  the  battle  was  the  deliverance  of  the 
English  army  from  a  most  imminent  danger,  and  subse- 
quently the  conquest  of  Calais,  which  the  King  immediately 
besieged  and  won,  and  which  remained  in  the  possession  of 
the  P2nglish  from  that  day  to  the  reign  of  Queen  Mary.  From 
that  time  the  Prince  became  the  darling  of  the  English,  and 
the  terror  of  the  PVench  ;  and,  whether  from  this  terror,  or 
from  the  black  armour  which  he  wore  on  that  day,  and  which 


1 64  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

contrasted  with  the  fairness  of  his  complexion,  he  was  called 
by  them  "  Le  Prince  Noir,"  the  Black  Prince,  and  from  them 
the  name  has  passed  to  us  ;  so  that  all  his  other  sounding 
titles,  by  which  the  old  poems  call  him  —  "  Prince  of  Wales, 
Duke  of  Aquitaine," — are  lost  in  the  one  memorable  name 
which  he  won  for  himself  in  his  first  fight  at  Cressy. 

[1356.]  And  now  we  pass  over  ten  years,  and  find  him  on 
the  field  of  Poitiers.  .  .  .  The  spot,  which  is  about  six  miles 
south  of  Poitiers,  is  still  known  by  the  name  of  the  Battle- 
field. Its  features  are  very  slightly  marked  —  two  ridges  of 
rising  ground,  parted  by  a  gentle  hollow  ;  behind  the  highest 
of  these  two  ridges  is  a  large  tract  of  copse  and  underwood, 
and  leading  up  to  it  from  the  hollow  is  a  somewhat  steep 
lane,  there  shut  in  by  woods  and  vines  on  each  side.  It  was 
on  this  ridge  that  the  Prince  had  taken  up  his  position,  and 
it  was  solely  by  the  good  use  which  he  made  of  this  position 
that  the  victory  was  won.  The  French  army  was  arranged  on 
the  other  side  of  the  hollow  in  three  great  divisions,  of  which 
the  King's  was  the  hindmost;  the  farm-house  which  marks  the 
spot  where  this  division  was  posted  is  visible  from  the  walls 
of  Poitiers.  It  was  on  Monday,  Sept.  19,  1356,  at  9  a.m., 
that  the  batde  began.   .   .   . 

The  Prince  offered  to  give  up  all  the  castles  and  prisoners 
he  had  taken,  and  to  swear  not  to  fight  in  France  again  for 
seven  years.  But  the  King  would  hear  of  nothing  but  his 
absolute  surrender  of  himself  and  his  army  on  the  spot.  .  .  . 
The  story  of  the  battle,  if  we  remember  the  position  of  the 
armies,  is  told  in  a  moment.  The  Prince  remained  firm  in 
his  position  :  the  French  charged  with  their  usual  chivalrous 
ardour  —  charged  up  the  lane ;  the  English  archers,  whom 
the  Prince  had  stationed  behind  the  hedges  on  each  side,  let 
fly  their  showers  of  arrows,  as  at  Cressy ;  in  an  instant  the 
lane  was  choked  with  the  dead  ;  and  the  first  check  of  such 


EDWARD    VWK   liLACK   PRINCE  165 

headstrong  confidence  was  fatal.  .  .  .  The  Prince  in  his  turn 
charged  ;  a  general  panic  seized  the  whole  French  army  ;  the 
first  and  second  division  fled  in  the  wildest  confusion  ;  the 
third  alone  where  King  John  stood  made  a  gallant  resistance ; 
the  King  was  taken  prisoner,  and  by  noon  the  whole  was  over. 
Up  to  the  gates  of  the  town  of  Poitiers  the  PVench  army  fled 
and  fell  ;  and  their  dead  bodies  were  buried  by  heaps  within 
a  convent  which  still  remains  in  the  city.  It  was  a  wonderful 
day.   .   .  . 

"  The  day  of  the  battle  at  night,  the  Prince  gave  a  supper 
in  his  lodgings  to  the  French  King,  and  to  most  of  the  great 
lords  that  were  prisoners.  The  Prince  caused  the  King  and 
his  son  to  sit  at  one  tabic,  and  other  lords,  knights,  and 
squires  at  the  others  ;  and  the  Prince  always  served  the  King 
very  humbly,  and  would  not  sit  at  the  King's  table,  although 
he  requested  him  —  he  said  he  was  not  qualified  to  sit  at  the 
table  with  so  great  a  prince  as  the  King  was.  Then  he  said 
to  the  King,  '  Sir,  for  God's  sake  make  no  bad  cheer,  though 
your  will  was  not  accomplished  this  day.  For  Sir,  the  King, 
my  father,  will  certainly  bestow  on  )ou  as  much  honour  and 
friendship  as  he  can,  and  will  agree  with  you  so  reasonably 
that  you  shall  ever  after  be  friends ;  and.  Sir,  I  think  you  ought 
to  rejoice,  though  the  battle  be  not  as  you  will,  for  you  have  this 
day  gained  the  high  honour  of  prowess,  and  have  surpassed  all 
others  on  your  side  in  valour.  Sir,  I  say  not  this  in  railler\', 
for  all  our  party,  who  saw  every  man's  deeds,  agree  in  this, 
and  give  you  the  palm  and  chaplet.'  Therewith  the  French- 
men whispered  among  themselves  that  the  Prince  had  spoken 
nobly,  and  that  most  probably  he  would  prove  a  great  hero  if 
God  preserved  his  life,  to  persevere  in  such  good  fortune." 

•  ■••••■  ••• 

[1366.]    And  now  we  have  to  go  again  over  ten  years, 
and  we  find  the  Prince  engaged  in  a  war  in  Spain,  helping 


1 66  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

Don  Pedro,  King  of  Spain,  against  his  brother.  But  this 
would  take  us  too  far  away  —  I  will  only  say  that  here  also  he 
won  a  most  brilliant  victory,  the  battle  of  Nejara,  in  1 367,  and 
it  is  interesting  to  remember  that  the  first  great  commander  of 
the  English  armies  had  a  peninsular  war  to  fight  as  well  as 
the  last,  and  that  the  flower  of  English  chivalry  led  his  troops 
through  the  pass  of  Roncevalles, 

"  Where  Charlemagne  and  all  his  peerage  fell," 

in  the  days  of  the  old  romances, 

[  1 376.]  Once  again,  then,  we  pass  over  ten  years  —  for,  by 
a  singular  coincidence,  which  has  been  observed  by  others,  the 
life  of  the  Prince  thus  naturally  divides  itself  —  and  we  find 
ourselves  at  the  end,  at  that  last  scene  which  is,  in  fact,  the 
main  connection  of  the  Black  Prince  with  Canterbury,  The 
expedition  to  Spain,  though  accompanied  by  one  splendid 
victory,  had  ended  disastrously.  From  that  moment  the  for- 
tunes of  the  Prince  were  overcast.  A  long  and  wasting  ill- 
ness, which  he  contracted  in  the  southern  climate  of  Spain, 
broke  down  his  constitution  ;  a  rebellion  occasioned  by  his 
own  wastefulness,  which  was  one  of  the  faults  of  his  charac- 
ter, burst  forth  in  his  French  provinces  ;  his  father  was  now 
sinking  in  years,  and  surrounded  by  unworthy  favourites  — 
such  was  the  state  in  which  the  Prince  returned,  for  the  last 
time,  to  England.  P'or  four  years  he  lived  in  almost  entire 
seclusion  at  Berkhampstead,  in  preparation  for  his  approach- 
ing end  ;  often  he  fell  into  long  fainting  fits,  which  his  at- 
tendants mistook  for  death,  ,  ,  ,  Once  more,  however,  his 
youthful  energy,  though  in  a  different  form,  shot  up  in  an  ex- 
piring flame.  His  father,  I  have  said,  was  sinking  into  dot- 
age, and  the  favourites  of  the  court  were  taking  advantage  of 
him,  to  waste  the  public  money.  Parliament  met  —  Parlia- 
ment, as  you  must  remember,  unlike  the  two  great  Houses 


KDWARI)  THE  BLACK    PRINCE  167 

which  now  sway  the  destiny  of  the  empire,  but  still  feeling  its 
way  towards  its  present  ix:)wers  — •  Parliament  met  to  check 
this  growing  evil ;  and  then  it  was  that  when  they  looked 
round  in  vain  for  a  leader  to  guide  their  counsels  and  support 
their  wavering  resolutions,  the  dying  Prince  came  forth  from 
his  long  retirement,  and  was  carried  up  to  London,  to  assist  his 
country  in  this  time  of  its  utmost  need.  His  own  residence 
was  a  palace  which  stood  on  what  is  now  called  Fish  Street 
Hill,  the  street  opposite  the  London  monument.  But  he  would 
not  rest  there :  he  was  brought  to  the  Royal  Palace  of  West- 
minster, that  he  might  be  close  at  hand  to  be  carried  from  his 
sick  bed  to  the  Parliament,  which  met  in  the  chambers  of  the 
Palace.  This  was  on  the  28th  of  April,  1376.  The  spirit  of 
the  Pariiament  and  the  nation  revived  as  they  saw  him,  and 
the  purpose  for  which  he  came  was  accomplished.  But  it 
was  his  last  effort.  Day  by  day  his  strength  ebbed  away,  and 
he  never  again  moved  from  the  Palace  at  Westminster.  .   .  , 

It  was  at  3  P.M.,  on  Trinity  Sunday  —  a  festival  which  he 
had  always  honoured  with  especial  reverence  :  it  was  on  the 
8th  of  June,  just  one  month  before  his  birthday,  in  his  forty- 
sixth  year  .   .   .  that  the  Black  Prince  breathed  his  last.   .   .   . 

For  nearly  four  months — from  the  8th  of  June  to  the  29th  of 
September — the  coffined  body  lay  in  state  at  Westminster,  and 
then,  as  soon  as  Parliament  met  again,  as  usual  in  those  times, 
on  the  festival  of  Michaelmas,  was  brought  to  Canterbur)'.  .  .  . 

In  this  sacred  spot  —  believed  at  that  time  to  be  the  most 
sacred  spot  in  England  —  the  tomb  stood  in  which  ' '  alone  in 
his  glory,"  the  Prince  was  to  be  deposited,  to  be  seen  and 
admired  by  all  the  countless  pilgrims  who  crawled  up  the  stone 
steps  beneath  it  on  their  way  to  the  shrine  of  the  saint. ^ 

Let  us  turn  to  that  tomb,  and  see  how  it  sums  up  his  whole 
Hfe.    Its  bright  colours  have  long  since  faded,  but  enough  still 

1  St.  Thomas  of  Canterbury. 


1 68  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH   HISTORY 

remains  to  show  us  what  it  was  as  it  stood  after  the  sacred 
remains  had  been  placed  within  it.  There  he  Hes  :  no  other 
memorial  of  him  exists  in  the  world  so  authentic,  lliere  he 
lies,  as  he  had  directed,  in  full  armour,  his  head  resting  on 
his  helmet,  his  feet  with  the  likeness  of  "  the  spurs  he  won  " 
at  Cressy,  his  hands  joined  as  in  that  last  prayer  which  he 
had  offered  up  on  his  deathbed.  There  you  can  see  his  fine 
face  with  the  Plantagenet  features,  the  flat  cheeks,  and  the 
well-chiselled  nose,  to  be  traced  perhaps  in  the  effigy  of 
his  father  in  Westminster  Abbey,  and  his  grandfather  in 
Gloucester  Cathedral.  On  his  armour,  you  can  still  see  the 
marks  of  the  bright  gilding  with  which  the  figure  was  covered 
from  head  to  foot,  so  as  to  make  it  look  like  an  image  of  pure 
gold.  High  above  are  suspended  the  brazen  gauntlets,  the 
helmet,  with  what  was  once  its  gilded  leopard-crest,  and  the 
wooden  shield,  the  velvet  coat  also,  embroidered  with  the  arms 
of  France  and  England,  now  tattered  and  colourless,  but  then 
blazing  with  blue  and  scarlet.  There,  too,  still  hangs  the  empty 
scabbard  of  the  sword,  wielded  perchance  at  his  three  great  bat- 
tles, and  which  Oliver  Cromwell,  it  is  said,  carried  away.  On 
the  canopy  over  the  tomb,  there  is  the  faded  representation  — 
painted  after  the  strange  fashion  of  those  times  —  of  the  Per- 
sons of  the  Holy  Trinity,  according  to  the  peculiar  devotion 
which  he  had  entertained.  In  the  pillars  you  can  see  the  hooks 
to  which  was  fastened  the  black  tapestry  with  its  crimson  bor- 
der and  curious  embroidery,  which  he  directed  in  his  will 
should  be  hung  round  his  tomb  and  the  shrine  of  Becket. 
Round  about  the  tomb,  too,  you  will  see  the  ostrich  feathers, 
which,  according  to  the  old,  but  doubtful  tradition,  we  are  told 
he  won  at  Cressy  from  the  blind  King  of  Bohemia,  who  per- 
ished in  the  thick  of  the  fight ;  and  interwoven  with  them, 
the  famous  motto,  with  which  he  used  to  sign  his  name, 
'"  Houmout,"  "  Ich  diene."    If,  as  seems  most  likely,  they  are 


EUWARl)  THE  BLACK   I'RINCE  169 

German  words,  they  exactly  express  what  we  have  seen  so 
often  in  his  Hfe,  the  union  of  '"  Hoch  muth,"  that  is,  high 
spirit,  with  "  Ich  dien,"  I  serve.  They  bring  before  us  the 
very  scene  itself  after  the  battle  of  Poitiers,  where,  after  hav- 
ing vanquished  the  whole  French  nation,  he  stood  behind  the 
captive  king,  and  served  him  like  an  attendant. 

And,  lastly,  carved  about  the  tomb,  is  the  long  inscription, 
selected  by  himself  before  his  death,  in  Norman  French,  still 
the  language  of  the  Court,  written,  as  he  begged,  clearly  and 
plainly,  that  all  might  read  it.  Its  purport  is  to  contrast  his 
former  splendour,  and  vigour,  and  beauty,  with  the  wasted 
body  which  is  now  all  that  is  left.  .   .   , 

When  we  stand  by  the  grave  of  a  remarkable  man,  it  is 
always  an  interesting  and  instructive  question  to  ask — espe- 
cially by  the  grave  of  such  a  man,  and  in  such  a  place  — 
what  evil  is  there,  which  we, trust  is  buried  with  him  in  his 
tomb  1  what  good  is  there,  which  may  still  live  after  him  .' 
what  is  it  that,  taking  him  from  first  to  last,  his  life  and  his 
death  teach  us } 

First,  then,  the  thought  which  we  most  naturally  connect 
with  the  name  of  the  Black  Prince,  is  the  wars  of  the  Eng- 
lish and  French  —  the  victories  of  England  over  France. 
Out  of  those  wars  much  noble  feeling  sprung,  —  feelings  of 
chivalry  and  courtesy  and  respect  to  our  enemies,  and  (perhaps 
a  doubtful  boon)  of  unshaken  confidence  in  ourselves.  Such 
feelings  are  amongst  our  most  precious  inheritances,  and  all 
honour  be  to  him  who  first  inspired  them  into  the  hearts  of 
his  countrymen,  never  to  be  again  extinct.  But  it  is  a  matter 
of  still  greater  thankfulness  to  remember,  as  we  look  at  the 
worn-out  armour  of  the  Black  Prince,  that  those  wars  of  Eng- 
lish conquest  are  buried  with  him,  never  to  be  revived.  Other 
wars  may  arise  in  the  unknown  future  still  before  us  —  but 
such  wars  as  he  and  his  father  waged,  we  shall,  we  may 


I/O  READINGS   IN   ENGLISH   HISTORY 

thankfully  hope,  see  no  more  again  for  ever.  We  shall  never 
again  see  a  King  of  England,  or  a  Prince  of  Wales,  taking 
advantage  of  a  legal  quibble  to  conquer  a  great  neighboring 
country,  and  laying  waste  with  fire  and  sword  a  civilized 
kingdom,  from  mere  self-aggrandisement.   ,   .  . 

Secondly,  he  brings  before  us  all  that  is  most  character- 
istic of  the  ages  of  chivalry.  You  have  heard  of  his  courtesy, 
his  reverence  to  age  and  authority,  his  generosity  to  his  fallen 
enemy.  But  before  I  speak  of  this  more  at  length,  here  also 
I  must  in  justice  remind  you  that  the  evil  as  well  as  the  good 
of  chivalry  was  seen  in  him,  and  that  this  evil,  like  that  which 
I  spoke  of  just  now,  is  also,  I  tmst,  buried  with  him.  One 
single  instance  will  show  what  I  mean.  In  those  disastrous 
years  which  ushered  in  the  close  of  his  life,  a  rebellion  arose 
in  his  French  province  of  Gascony,  provoked  by  his  wasteful 
expenditure.  One  of  the  chief  towns  where  the  insurgents 
held  out,  was  Limoges.  The  Prince,  though  then  labouring 
under  his  fatal  illness,  besieged  and  took  it ;  and  as  soon  as 
it  was  taken,  he  gave  orders  that  his  soldiers  should  massacre 
every  one  that  they  found  ;  whilst  he  himself,  too  ill  to  walk 
or  ride,  was  carried  through  the  streets  in  a  litter,  looking  on 
at  the  carnage.  Men,  women,  and  children,  threw  themselves 
on  their  knees,  as  he  passed  through  the  devoted  city,  crying, 
"  Mercy,  mercy,"  but  he  went  on  relentlessly,  and  the  massacre 
went  on,  till  struck  by  the  gallantry  of  three  French  knights, 
whom  he  saw  fighting  in  one  of  the  squares  against  fearful 
odds,  he  ordered  it  to  cease.  Now,  for  this  dreadful  scene 
there  were  doubtless  many  excuses  —  the  irritation  of  illness, 
the  affection  for  his  father,  whose  dignity  he  thought  outraged 
by  so  determined  a  resistance,  and  the  indignation  against  the 
ingratitude  of  a  city  on  which  he  had  bestowed  many  favours. 
But  what  is  especially  to  be  observed,  is  not  so  much  the 
cruelty  of  the  individual  man,  as  the  great  imperfection  of  that 


KDWARI)    rili:   liLACR  I'RINCE  171 

kind  of  virtue  which  could  allow  of  such  cruelty.  Dreadful  as 
this  scene  seems  to  us,  to  men  of  that  time  it  seemed  quite 
natural.  The  poet  who  recorded  it,  iiad  nothing  more  to 
say  concerning  it,  than  that  — 

"  All  the  townsmen  were  taken  or  slain 
By  the  noble  Prince  of  price, 
Whereat  great  joy  had  all  around, 
Those  who  were  his  friends ; 
And  his  enemies  were 
Sorely  grieved,  and  repented 
That  they  had  begun  the  war  against  him." 

This  strange  contradiction  arose  from  one  single  cause. 
The  Black  Prince,  and  those  who  looked  up  to  him  as  their 
pattern,  chivalrous,  kind,  and  generous  as  they  were  to  their 
equals,  and  to  their  immediate  dependents,  had  no  sense  of 
what  was  due  to  the  poor,  to  the  middle,  and  the  humbler 
classes  generally.  He  could  be  touched  by  the  sight  of  a  cap- 
tive king,  or  at  the  gallantry  of  the  three  French  gentlemen  ; 
but  he  had  no  ears  to  hear,  no  eyes  to  see,  the  cries  and  groans 
of  the  fathers,  and  mothers,  and  children,  of  the  poorer  citi- 
zens, who  were  not  bound  to  him  b\-  the  laws  of  honour  and 
of  knighthood.  It  is  for  us  to  remember,  as  we  stand  by  his 
grave,  that  whilst  he  has  left  us  the  legacy  of  those  noble  and 
beautiful  feelings,  which  are  the  charm  and  best  ornaments  of 
life,  though  not  its  most  necessary  virtues,  it  is  our  further 
privilege  and  duty  to  extend  those  feelings  towards  the  classes 
on  whom  he  never  cast  a  thought ;  to  have  towards  all  classes 
of  society,  and  to  make  them  have  towards  each  other,  and 
towards  ourselves,  the  high  respect  and  courtes)-,  and  kind- 
ness, which  were  then  peculiar  to  one  class  only. 


172  READINGS  IN   ENGLISH  HISTORY 

Number  28 
THE  VOYAGES  OF  JOHN  CABOT 

Edwin  M.  Bacox.  English  Voyages  of  Adventure  and  Discovery.  Retold 
from  Hakluyt,  pp.  do--] l, passim. 
This  narrative  is  retold  from  the  account  included  in  the  work  of  Richard 
Hakluyt,  a  famous  geographer  of  the  age  of  Elizabeth.  His  most  important 
book  is  entitled  "  The  Principall  Navigations,  Voiages,  and  Discoveries  of 
the  English  Nation  made  by  Sea  or  over  Land  to  the  most  remote  and  far- 
thest distant  Quarters  of  the  Earth  at  any  time  within  the  compasse  of  these 
1500  years." 

The  news  of  Columbus'  achievement  filled  all  Europe  with 
wonder  and  admiration.  To  "  sail  by  the  West  into  the  East 
where  spices  grow  by  a  way  that  was  never  known  before  " 
was  affirmed  "a  thing  more  divine  than  human."  Offering 
the  promise  of  a  direct  route  to  Cathay,  the  feat  was  of  tre- 
mendous import.  There  was  especially  "  great-talk  of  it"  in 
the  English  court  with  keen  regret  that  England,  through 
untoward  happenings,  had  failed  of  the  honour  and  profit  of 
the  momentous  discovery,  and  Henry  and  his  counsellors  were 
eager  to  emulate  Spain.  Although  the  full  significance  of  the 
discovery  was  not  then  realized  —  that  the  new-found  islands 
were  the  barriers  of  a  new  continent  —  no  underestimate  of 
the  value  of  the  region  was  made  by  either  nation.  Ferdinand 
and  Isabella  gave  it  the  name  of  the  Indies,  considering  it, 
with  the  discoverer,  to  be  a  part  of  India,  and  no  time  was  lost 
in  clinching  their  rights.  .  .   . 

Meanwhile  in  the  English  maritime  city  of  Bristol  the  Ve- 
netian merchant,  John  Cabot  ( or  Zuan  Caboto  in  the  Venetian 
dialect),  then  resident  there,  had  perfected  his  scheme  of 
shortening  the  way  to  India  by  the  Northwest  Passage,  and 
in  1496,  before  Columbus's  return  from  his  second  voyage, 
it  had  been  proposed  to  King  Henry,  had  met  his  hearty 


TIIK  V()V.\(;KS  of  JOTIN  CABOT  173 

approbation,  had  been  endorsed  by  his  letters  patent  issued 
to  Cabot  and  Cabot's  three  sons,  Lewis,  Sebastian,  and  San- 
tius,  and  preparations  for  the  venture  had  begun. 

Henry's  patent,  bearing  date  March  5,  1495/6,  and  dis- 
tinguished as  "  the  most  ancient  American  state  paper  of 
England,"  gave  to  the  grantees  sweeping  powers  and  a  pretty 
complete  commercial  monopoly.  They  were  authorized  to  sail 
in  all  seas  to  the  East,  the  West,  and  the  North  ;  to  seek  out 
in  any  part  of  the  undiscovered  world  islands,  countries,  and 
provinces  of  the  heathen  hitherto  unknown  to  Christians ; 
affix  the  ensigns  of  England  to  all  places  newly  found  and 
take  possession  of  them  for  the  English  crown.  They  were 
to  have  the  exclusive  right  of  frequenting  the  places  of  their 
discovery,  and  enjoy  all  the  fruits  and  gains  of  their  naviga- 
tions except  a  fifth  part,  which  was  to  go  to  the  king.  The 
sole  restriction  imposed  was  that  on  their  return  voyages  they 
should  always  land  at  the  port  of  Bristol.  With  these  gener- 
ous concessions,  however,  the  canny  king  stipulated  that  the 
enterprise  should  be  wholly  at  the  Cabots'  "  own  proper  costs 
and  charges."   .  .  . 

Under  this  patent,  the  following  year  —  1 497 — John  Cabot 
sailed  out  of  Bristol  with  one  small  vessel,  and  supplemented 
the  discovery  of  Columbus  in  finding  the  mainland  of  America. 

John  Cabot,  like  Columbus,  was  a  Genoese,  but  neither  the 
exact  place  nor  the  date  of  his  birth  is  known.  He  was  in 
Venice  as  early  as  1461,  as  appears  from  a  record  in  the 
Venetian  archives  of  his  naturalization  as  a  citizen  of  Venice 
under  date  of  March  28,  1476,  after  the  prescribed  residence 
of  fifteen  years.  Tlicre  he  was  apparently  a  merchant.  It  is 
said  that  he  also  made  voyages  at  times  as  a  ship-master.  He 
became  proficient  in  the  study  of  cosmography  and  in  the  sci- 
ence of  navigation.  W'ith  Columbus  he  accepted  the  theory 
of  the  rotundity  of  the  earth,  and  is  said  to  have  been  early 


174  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

desirous  of  himself  putting  it  to  a  practical  test.  At  one  time 
he  visited  Arabia,  where  at  Mecca  he  saw  the  caravans  com- 
ing in  laden  with  spices  from  distant  countries.  Asking  where 
the  spices  grew,  he  was  told  by  the  carriers  that  they  did  not 
know  ;  that  other  caravans  came  to  their  homes  with  this  rich 
merchandise  from  more  distant  parts,  and  that  these  others 
told  them  that  it  was  brought  from  still  more  remote  regions. 
So  he  came  to  reason  in  this  wise  :  that  "  if  the  Orientals 
affirmed  to  the  vSoutherners  that  those  things  come  from  a 
distance  from  them,  and  so  from  hand  to  hand,  presupposing 
the  rotundity  of  the  earth,  it  must  be  that  the  last  ones  get 
them  at  the  North  toward  the  West."  On  this  argument  he 
later  based  his  Northwest  Passage  scheme.  He  moved  to 
England  probably  not  long  before  the  development  of  this 
scheme  ( some  early  writers,  however,  place  the  date  about 
the  year  1477),  and  took  up  his  residence  in  Bristol,  to 
"  follow  the  trade  of  merchandise."  His  wife,  a  Venetian,  and 
his  three  sons,  all  supposed  to  have  been  born  in  Venice, 
accompanied  him.  Sebastian,  the  second  son,  .  .  .  was  then 
a  youth,  but  sufficiently  old  to  have  already  some  "knowledge 
of  the  humanities  and  the  sphere,"  as  he  long  afterward  stated. 
The  brothers,  it  is  supposed,  were  all  of  age  when  the  king's 
patent  was  issued,  and  Sebastian  about  twenty-three. 

John  Cabot's  expedition  sailed  early  in  May  and  was  absent 
three  months.  It  was  essentially  a  voyage  of  discovery.  His 
vessel  was  a  Bristol  ship,  and  called  the  "  Matthew."  The 
ship's  company  comprised  eighteen  persons,  "almost  all 
Englishmen  and  from  Bristol."  The  foreigners  were  a  Bur- 
gundian  and  a  Genoese.  Sebastian,  it  is  believed,  accom- 
panied his  father,  but  neither  of  the  other  sons.  The  chief 
men  of  the  enterprise  were  "  great  sailors," 

The  brave  little  ship  plowed  the  mysterious  sea  for  seven 
hundred  leagues,  as  estimated,  when  on  the  twenty-fourth  of 


THE  VOYAGES  OF  JOHN  CABOT  175 

June,  in  the  muining,  land  was  sighted.  This  was  supposed 
by  the  early  historians,  and  so  set  down  in  their  histories,  to 
have  been  the  island  of  Newfoundland,  Ikit  through  nine- 
teenth century  findings  of  data  it  has  been  made  clear  that  it 
was  the  north  part,  or  the  eastern  point  of  the  present  island 
of  Cape  Breton,  off  the  coast  of  Nova  Scotia.  This  is  demon- 
strated by  the  inscription  "  prima  tierra  vista  "  at  the  head  of 
the  delineation  of  that  island,  on  a  map  attributed  to  Sebastian 
Cabot  composed  in  1544,  nearly  half  a  century  after  the  voy- 
age, and  subsequently  missing  till  the  discovery  of  a  copy  three 
centuries  later,  in  1843,  in  Germany,  at  the  house  of  a  Bava- 
rian curate,  whence  it  passed  to  the  National  Library  at  Paris. 
On  this  map  Cape  Breton  island  forms  a  part  of  the  mainland 
of  Nova  Scotia,  the  Gut  of  Canso  not  then  having  been  dis- 
covered. On  the  same  day  that  the  landfall  was  made  a  "  large 
island  adjacent"  to  it  was  discovered,  and  named  St.  John 
because  of  its  finding  on  the  day  of  the  festival  of  St.  John 
the  Baptist.  It  is  marked  the  '"  I  del  Juan"  on  this  map,  and 
is  the  present  Prince  Edward  Island. 

A  landing  was  made  at  the  landfall  and  Cabot  planted  a 
large  cross  with  "  one  flag  of  England,  and  one  of  St.  Mark 
by  reason  of  his  being  a  Venetian,"  and  took  possession  for 
the  English  king.  No  human  beings  were  seen,  but,  "  certain 
snares  set  to  catch  game,  and  a  needle  for  making  nets," 
showing  that  the  place  was  inhabited,  were  found  and  taken 
to  be  displayed  to  the  king  on  the  return  home.   .   .   . 

Cabot  believed  that  the  lands  he  had  discovered  lay  in  "  the 
territory  of  the  Grand  Cham,"  as  Columbus  thought  his  were 
of  eastern  Asia. 

The  expedition  arrived  back  at  Bristol  early  in  August  and 
the  stor}'  it  brought  created  a  sensation.  With  his  report  to 
the  king  Cabot  exhibited  a  map  of  the  region  visited  and  a 
solid  globe,  and  presented  the  game-snares  and  net-needle 


176  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

which  he  had  found.  He  told  the  king  that  he  beheved  it  prac- 
ticable by  starting  from  the  parts  which  he  had  discovered,  and 
constantly  hugging  the  shore  toward  the  equinoctial,  to  reach 
an  island  called  by  him  Cipango,  where  he  thought  all  the 
spices  of  the  world  and  also  the  precious  stones  originated  ; 
and  this  region  found  and  colonized,  there  might  be  estab- 
lished in  London  a  greater  storehouse  of  spices  than  the 
chief  one  then  existing,  in  Alexandria.  All  this  much  moved 
the  king,  and  he  promised  to  promote  a  second  expedition 
for  this  purpose  in  the  following  spring. 

Meanwhile  John  Cabot  became  the  hero  of  the  hour,  and 
great  honours  were  paid  him.  The  king  gave  him  money 
and  granted  him  an  annual  pension  of  twenty  pounds  (equal 
to  two  hundred  modern  pounds  in  purchasing  value),  which 
was  to  be  charged  upon  the  revenues  of  the  port  of  Bristol ; 
he  dressed  in  silk  ;  and  he  was  styled  the  "  Great  Admiral." 
He  also  appears  to  have  been  knighted.  He  distributed 
largess  with  a  free  hand,  if  the  tales  of  the  letter-writers  of 
the  day  are  to  be  accepted.  One  wrote  that  he  gave  an  island 
to  the  Burgundian  of  his  crew  and  another  to  the  Genoese, 
"a  barber  of  his  from  Castiglione,  of  Genoa."  And  this  writer 
adds,  "  both  of  them  regard  themselves  counts."  Reports  of 
his  exploits  and  of  the  king's  further  intentions  were  duly 
made  known  to  rival  courts  by  their  envoys  in  England,  and 
excited  their  jealousy. 

The  second  expedition  was  provided  for  by  the  king's 
license  dated  the  third  of  F'ebruary,  1497/8.  This  was  a 
patent  granted  to  John  Cabot  alone,  the  sons  not  being  named. 
Hakluyt  gives  only  the  following  record  from  the  rolls  : 

"  The  king  upon  the  third  day  of  February,  in  the  1 3  yeere 
of  his  reigne,  gave  license  to  John  Cabot  to  take  sixe  English 
ships  in  any  haven  or  havens  of  the  realme  of  England,  being 
of  the  burden  of  200  tunnes,  or  under,  with  all  necessary 


THE  CHARACTER  OI'   HKXRV  VHI  177 

furniture,  and  to  take  also  into  the  said  ships  all  such  masters, 
mariners,  and  subjects  of  the  king  as  willingly  will  go  with 
him,  etc."   .   .   . 

Five  ships  were  got  together  for  this  expedition.  Three 
of  them  are  supposed  to  have  been  furnished  by  Bristol  mer- 
chants and  two  by  the  king ;  one  chronicler,  however,  says 
that  the  Cabots  contributed  two.  London  merchants  joined 
with  Bristol  men  in  the  adventure.  It  was  understood  to  be 
an  enterprise  for  colonization  combined  with  further  discovery. 
The  number  of  men  enlisted  for  the  voyage  was  placed  at 
three  hundred.  Among  them,  as  on  the  first  voyage,  were 
mariners  experienced  in  venturesome  undertakings.  The 
fleet  sailed  off  at  the  beginning  of  May,  1498.  One  of  the 
ships,  aboard  of  which  was  the  priest,  "  Friar  Buel,"  put  back 
to  Ireland  in  distress.    The  other  four  continued  the  vovage. 

With  the  departure  from  Bristol  nothing  more  is  heard  of 
John  Cabot.  He  drops  out  of  sight  instantly  and  mysteriously. 
Various  conjectures  as  to  his  fate  are  entertained  b\-  the  his- 
torians. Some  contend  that  he  died  when  about  to  set  sail. 
.  .  .  No  shred  of  satisfactory  information  has  rewarded  the 
searcher  for  a  solution  of  the  problem.  Nobody  knows  what 
became  of  him. 

Ntimbcr  2g 
THE  CHARACTER  OF  HENRY  VHI 

J.  J.  JUSSERAND.    A  Literary  History  0/  the  English  People,  Vol.  II,  Part  I, 

pp.  40-45.  150-154. 

The  new  king  is  eighteen  years  of  age  ;  he  is  handsome, 
learned,  vigorous ;  he  likes  hunting,  pleasure,  fine  arts  ;  he 
knows  as  much  Latin  as  the  clerks  at  Oxford ;  he  clears  a 
ditch  as  well  as  any  ;   he  could  give  points  to  the  famous 


178  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

wrestlers  of  Cornwall ;  he  is  "  a  marvellous  good  archer  and 
strong";  he  favours  painters,  builds  palaces,  delights  in  fes- 
tivities ;  he  disguises  himself  as  a  Roman  emperor,  as  the 
Knight  of  the  '"  Cure  Loial "  (Loyal  Heart),  as  an  archer  of 
Robin  Hood's.    Judging  from  these  early  years,  his  reign  will 
be  a  "  Field  of  the  cloth  of  gold,"  and  a  "  Romaunt  of  the 
Rose  "  perpetual.    He  knows  the  merits  of  the  English  lan- 
guage, encourages  the  national  drama,  and  discourages_^bad 
authors  by  leaving  in  the  middle  when  the  play  is  too  dull. 
A  merry  companion,  brilliantly  matched  to  Catherine  of  Ara- 
gon,  daughter  of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella,  by  which  marriage 
the  powerful  support  of  the  House  of  Spain  is  secured  to 
him,  he  looks  smilingly  at  the  sunny  side  of  life.    He  likes 
to  be  seen,  and  wants  to  be  admired  ;  all  eyes  should  turn 
towards  him  :  those  of  the  Pope,  of  the  Emperor,  the  King 
of  France,  the  people  of  England,  the  foreign  ambassadors. 
He  seeks  out  every  occasion  to  shine,  great  or  small.    Scarcely 
seated  on  the  throne,  he  dreams  of  renewing  the  exploits  of 
the  Plantagenets  ;  he  wants  to  take  Guyenne  and  begin  anew 
the  Hundred  Years'  War.    He  also  wants  to  dazzle  the  en- 
voys of  Venice,  he  speaks  to  them  in  four  languages  and 
exhibits  himself  covered  with  gems  :  "His  fingers  were  one 
mass  of  jewelled  rings."    He  overthrows  in  their  presence  a 
jouster  and  his  horse  ;  then,  taking  off  his  helmet,  "  he  came 
under  the  windows  where  we  were,  and  talked  and  laughed 
with  us  to  our  very  great  honour."    He  hears  with  chagrin, 
from  the  same  ambassadors,  that,  in  point  of  height,  Francis  I. 
has  nothing  to  envy  him  ;  but  with  pleasure  that,  if  the  King 
of  France's  legs  are  long,  at  least  they  are  thin.    "  Where- 
upon he  opened  his  doublet  and,  placing  his  hand  on  his 
thigh,  said  :  '  Look  here  !  and  I  have  also  a  good  calf  to  my 
leg.'"    He  remains,  in  this  respect,  the  same  to  the  last; 
every  one  knows  it,  and  acts  accordingly.    Late  in  the  reign, 


THE  CHARACTFR   Ol"   IIKXRV  VIII 


179 


he  sends  ten  ladies  of  his  court  to  admire  an  enormous  ship 
he  has  had  l)uill  at  Portsmouth,  the  largest  which  had  yet 
been  devised.  They  write  to  him  a  collective  epistle,  signed 
by  all  ten,  in  which  they  declare  that  they  have  seen  the  fleet 
and  the  "  newe  greate  Shippe,"  and  all  this  is  "  so  goodlie 
to  beholde,  that  in  our  licfs  wee  have  not  seene  (excepting 
your  royall  person  and  my  lord  tlie  I'rince  your  sonne)  a 
more  pleasaunt  sight." 

Proud  of  his  figure,  he  is  proud  also  of  his  learning.  If 
an  audacious  German  monk  surprises  Christendom  by  the 
temerity  of  his  attacks,  Henry  will  not  leave  to  theologians 
the  honour  of  crushing  "that  serpent";  he  will  step  forth, 
and,  turning  for  a  while  "  from  those  military  occupations 
and  those  affairs  of  State  to  which,"  as  he  writes  to  the  Pope, 
"  he  had  had  to  devote  his  youth,"  he  will  confound  the  her- 
etic by  his  logic ;  he  will  be  the  bulwark  of  the  Church,  and 
an  object  of  universal  admiration.  lie  learns  with  joy,  by  a 
despatch  from  the  I£nglish  envoy,  that  Leo  X.,  on  receiving 
the  fine  copy  of  the  book,  bound  in  cloth  of  gold,  w'hich  was 
destined  to  him,  could  not  refrain  from  reading  "  five  lefes 
with  owt  interruption  ;  and  as  I  suppose,  if  tym  and  place 
and  other  of  no  small  importance  busynes  had  not  lett  (pre- 
vented) hym,  he  wold  never  a  ceassed  tyll  he  had  redd  it 
over."  At  all  events,  these  five  pages  were  greatly  admired ; 
the  Pope,  while  reading,  marked  by  an  exclamation  or  a  nod 
the  passages  which  most  pleased  him,  "  and  that  seemyd  to 
be  at  every  second  line."  Greatly  admired  also  were  the  two 
verses  written  at  the  end  of  the  volume  in  the  king's  own 
hand,  but  which  had  been  supplied  to  liini  b}-  Wolsey.  The 
book  shall  be  sent  by  the  Pope  himself  to  all  the  kings  of 
Christendom  ;  every  reader  will  gain  ten  years'  indulgence  ; 
Henry  will  be  the  model  of  princes,  the  "  Defender  of 
the  Faith."     "Desirous,"  says  the  Pope,  "of  adorning  thy 


l8o  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

Majesty  with  such  a  title  that  Christians  of  all  time  should 
comprehend  the  gratitude  we  feel  for  the  gift  offered  by  thy 
Majesty,  especially  at  such  a  moment,  We,  who  occupy  after 
Saint  Peter  .  .  .  this  sacred  See  from  which  emanate  all  titles 
and  dignities,  .  .  .  have  decided  to  bestow  upon  thy  Majesty 
the  title  of  Defender  of  the  Faith  .  .  .  ordering  all  the  faithful 
to  give  that  title  to  thy  Majesty,  and  when  they  shall  write 
to  thee,  to  add  to  the  word  King  the  words  Defender  of  the 
Faith."  Alone,  of  all  the  papal  injunctions,  the  one  thus 
formulated  by  Giovanni  de  Medici,  as  the  occupant  of  the 
"  sacred  See  from  which  emanate  all  titles  and  dignities,"  is 
still  observed  in  England. 

Henry  is  extremely  pious.  He  devotes  a  great  deal  of  time 
to  affairs  of  religion  ;  "he  hears  three  masses  daily  when  he 
hunts,  and  sometimes  five  on  other  days";  but,  like  a  true 
prince  of  the  Renaissance,  he  is  interested  in  everything :  in 
war,  in  the  navy,  in  distant  discoveries,  in  music  ;  he  plays 
on  several  instruments,  "sings  from  book  at  sight,"  composes 
songs,  music  and  words  ;  he  busies  himself  with  medicine, 
protects  and  retains  in  England  the  Italian  Gemini,  vulgariser 
of  the  science  of  Vesale,  and  who  has  succeeded  in  "  perfectly 
settyng  forth  all  and  syngular  the  bones,  the  joyntes,  vaynes, 
arteries,  synowes,  muscles  or  brawnes,  tendons  and  ligamentes 
of  mannes  bodye."  Henry  invents  recipes  against  the  plague : 
"  Take  on  handfull  of  marygolds,  a  handfull  of  sorel,"  etc., 
etc.,  and  the  cure  is  certain,  "'  wyth  Gods  grace."  For  him- 
self, however,  he  follows  another  recipe,  which  consists  in 
rapidly  leaving  the  towns  where  the  scourge  breaks  out.  He 
is  fond  of  curiosities  from  distant  lands.  A  ship  comes  from 
India  and  brings  him  "first  ij  muske  catts,  iij  lytyll  munkkeys, 
a  marmazat  .  .  .  more  a  chest  of  nutts  of  India  contayneng 
xj  whiche  be  greater  than  a  man  [h]is  ffyste,  and  iij  potts 
of  erthe  payntid,  callid  Porseland"  (porcelain).   He  sends  for 


riji':  (■iiara(:tp:r  of  iikxrv  viii         iSi 

foreign  artists  to  come  to  his  court.  Docs  not  King  Francis 
do  the  same  ?  "He  cleUghts  now,"  writes  the  ambassador  of 
France,  "'  in  paintings  and  embroideries,  having  sent  people  to 
France,  Flanders,  Italy,  and  other  countries  to  fetch  masters 
excelling  in  that  art,  and  also  musicians  and  other  ministers 
of  pastimes."  He  makes  the  most  agreeable  use  of  the 
treasures  amassed  by  his  father  and  expends  them  lavishly. 
As  soon  as  he  comes  to  the  throne  he  sends  the  two  chief 
counsellors  of  Henry  VII.  to  the  scaffold,  which  gives  the 
finishing  touch  to  his  popularity,  but  leaves  him  for  that  means 
of  government  a  taste  which  he  never  lost.  Erasmus  is  seen 
at  his  court ;  Polydore  Vergil  makes  a  stay  in  his  kingdom  ; 
Holbein  settles  there.  England,  in  her  turn,  is  going,  it 
seems,  to  seat  herself  at  the  table  of  the  gods.  .  .  . 

One  night,  that  Wolsey  held  an  assembly,  there  entered 
the  presence  chamber  a  troup  of  maskers  disguised  as  French 
shepherds.  They  had  left  their  flocks,  they  explained,  to  at- 
tend the  gathering,  and  render  homage  to  Beauty. 

"  A  thousand  thanks,  and  pray  them  take  their  pleasures," 

said  Wolsey,  and  each  shepherd  choosing  at  once  a  lady,  the 
dances  began.    The  leader  of  the  troop  was  the  young  king, 

A'.  Henry.    The  fairest  hand  I  ever  touch'd,  O  beauty ! 

Till  now  I  never  knew  thee. 

.  .  .   My  Lord  Chamberlain, 

Pr ythee,  come  hither :  What  fair  lady's  that  t 
L.  Chamberlain.     An't   please    your   grace,    Sir   Thomas    Bullen's 

daughter  — 

The  Viscount  Rochford  —  one  of  her  highness'  women. 
K.  Henry.    By  heaven  !  she  is  a  dainty  one.    Sweetheart, 

I  were  unmannerly  to  take  you  out, 

And  not  to  kiss  you. 

From  the  day,  whichever  it  was,  when  such  a  scene  as  the 
one  described  by  Shakespeare  took  place,  the  real  nature  of 


1 82  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

the  king  began  to  show,  and  the  true  characteristics  of  the 
period  became  manifest.  Henry  was  not  destined  to  outshine 
Augustus,  Severus,  and  Antoninus  Pius,  nor  was  the  epoch 
to  be  a  golden  age  ;  the  illusion  was  soon  dispelled.  To  pro- 
long it,  an  impossible  combination  of  circumstances  would 
have  been  requisite.  England  should  have  enjoyed,  at  that 
troublous  period,  the  interior  peace  she  passionately  longed 
for  after  the  turmoils  of  the  fifteenth  centur}',  and  which  she 
expected  to  receive  at  the  hand  of  her  new  master ;  the  mani- 
fold fancies,  caprices,  desires,  passions,  and  ambitions  of 
this  master  should  have  been  easily  and  severally  gratified, 
his  highest  ambitions  and  his  pettiest  whims.  For  men 
selfish  to  this  degree  deem  nothing  trifling  which  concerns 
them  ;  nothing  counts  for  them  save  their  own  selves,  the 
rest  is  their  footstool.  The  opposition  of  a  Pope  or  of  an 
earthworm  is  all  one  in  their  eyes.  The  mask  fell ;  the 
Robin  Hood  archer,  the  Roman  emperor,  the  "  God  Mars," 
the  French  shepherd  vanished,  and  the  second  Tudor  stood 
revealed. 

Disappointments  had  multiplied  for  him.  At  first,  Wolsey's 
dexterity,  his  own  youthful  ardour,  the  hope  of  speedy  re- 
venges, had  soothed  his  mortifications  and  assuaged  the  smart 
of  wounded  vanity.  But  such  natures  never  forget ;  repeated 
blows,  instead  of  hardening,  make  them  more  sensitive,  and 
re-open  old  sores.  Henry's  vexations  were  to  be  the  more 
numerous  that  he  aimed  at  everything  ;  no  goal  was  too  high 
nor  too  low  for  him,  he  offered  the  broadest  mark  to  Fortune's 
shafts.  Warrior,  statesman,  sportsman,  physician,  musician, 
theologian,  archer,  lover,  he  meddled  with  all  matters,  and 
wanted  to  have  every  kind  of  thing  in  abundance.  He  would 
hear,  we  know,  five  masses  daily,  as  though  heaven  were  his 
sole  care ;  he  tired  ten  horses  in  one  chase  ;  he  spoke  four 
languages  ;  he  appropriated  fifteen  million  sterling  of  Church 


TlIK  CIIAKAC'I  KR  Ol"   HENRY  VIII  183 

property  ;  he  wedded  six  wives  ;  he  would  have  liked  to  be 
emperor  and  conquer  France,  to  be  Pope  and  well-nigh  God 
in  his  own  land.  "  There  is  as  great  difference  between  you 
and  me,  as  between  God  and  man,"  wrote  Latimer,  who  knew 
how  to  please  his  sovereign. 

Fortune  soon  wearied  of  'him  and  spared  him  no  blows. 
True,  the  Scots  had  been  defeated  at  Flodden,  but  their  army 
w-as  reorganising,  and  beautiful,  deep-blue  eyed  Marie  of  Lor- 
raine had  preferred  the  vanquished  king  to  his  victor ;  in 
spite  of  Henry's  diplomacy  and  his  entreaties  she  had  gone 
to  reign  by  the  side  of  James  V.  The  French  have  lost  a 
battle,  but  what  glory  can  be  derived  therefrom  .?  They  jest 
saucily  themselves  at  their  mishap,  and  call  it  the  "  Battle  of 
Spurs  ";  since  then  they  have  been  victorious  at  Marignan  : 
Henry  shed  tears  of  rage  at  the  news.  Proud  of  his  strength 
and  skill,  the  King  of  England  enters  the  tent  of  P>ancis  L 
at  the  P'ield  of  the  Cloth  of  Gold.  "  He  took  him,"  relates 
Marshal  de  Fleuranges,  "  by  the  collar  saying,  '  My  brother,  I 
would  fain  try  a  fall  with  you,'  and  gave  him  a  trip  or  two.  And 
the  King  of  P'rance,  who  is  a  veiy  good  wrestler,  gave  him  a 
twist,  flung  him  down,  and  gave  him  a  marvellous  sault."  The 
monk  of  Germany,  against  whom  the  learned  king  measured 
himself,  has  not  remained  dumbfounded  ;  termed  a  serpent, 
he  retorts,  being  nowise  behind  his  opponent  in  vituperation : 
the  king  is  "  a  fool  ";  he  is  a  Thomist,  and  the  Thomists  are 
hogs:  "'  Crassi  illi  porci  Thomistae."  A  sovereign  who  has  de- 
fended the  sacraments  and  hears  several  masses  daily,  might, 
it  would  seem,  count  upon  the  Pope.  Henr)'  has  need  of 
him  for  his  divorce,  and  the  Pope  shows  himself  intractable. 
Each  of  his  marriages  is  a  fresh  source  of  mortification  ;  his 
wives  deceive  him,  he  is  deceived  in  their  beauty,  he  deceives 
himself  as  to  his  own  feelings.  He  becomes  so  infuriated 
that  he  laughs,  weeps,  sings,  calls  for  a  dagger  to  kill  the 


1 84  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

queen  (Catherine  Howard),  and  people  begin  to  think  he  has 
"  gone  out  of  his  mind." 

Towards  the  end  of  his  reign,  after  various  alliances  and 
wars,  he  finds  himself  with  an  empty  treasury,  confronted  by 
adversaries  that  their  long  rivalry  has  not  exhausted.  For  the 
sake  of  Anne  Boleyn's  bright  eyes  which  have,  as  he  writes, 
"pierced  him  with  love's  dart,"  he  had  alienated  the  Emperor; 
and  as  to  the  French,  they  periodically  attack  his  coasts.  In 
his  perplexity,  excommunicated  though  he  be,  he  is  driven  to 
ordering  "  processions  throughout  the  realm  in  such  sort  as 
in  like  cases  hath  heretofore  laudably  been  accustomed," 

From  year  to  year  the  exasperation  has  increased  and  the 
temper  has  soured  ;  Henr}-  has  become  more  sensitive  to  what 
affects  him  and  more  callous  to  the  sufferings  of  others.  The 
young  king  smiled  upon  life,  the  old  king  smiles  upon  scaf- 
folds. He  refines  on  the  agonies  of  his  victims ;  he  loads 
them  with  honours  on  the  eve  of  their  execution,  that  they 
may  suspect  nothing  and  that  greater  may  be  their  fall.  Al- 
ready sentenced,  doomed  as  they  are  to  die  on  the  morrow, 
still  he  makes  use  of  them,  their  last  breath  must  be  of  service 
to  him.  Confessions  wrung  in  those  hours  of  anguish  from 
the  fallen  minister  and  the  trembling  woman  so  wild  with  fear 
her  words  can  scarce  be  heard,  pave  the  way  to  new  bridals  and 
fresh  reprisals.  The  block  is  still  standing,  the  last  queen's 
corpse  barely  cold,  and  Henry  has  taken  another  wife.  The 
scent  of  blood  that  lingers  about  his  bower  is  not  unpleasant 
to  him.  His  subjects  must  reverence  and  obey  him,  be  it 
contrary^  to  their  conscience  and  creed,  do  as  he  says,  believe 
what  he  believes,  shift  their  faith  when  he  shifts  his,  all  under 
the  penalty  of  death.  The  mask  has  dropped,  and  the  visage 
is  laid  bare,  a  broad  and  sensual  face,  a  brow  narrower  than 
the  neck,  a  sullen  eye,  thin  closed  lips  denoting  stubbornness 
and  cruelty  :  such  Holbein's  faithful  brush  depicts  him. 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  WOLSEY  185 

Number  Jo 
THE  CHARACTER  OE  WOLSEY 

Sebastian  Giustinian.  Four  Years  at  the  Court  0/ Henry  VIII,  Vol.  II, 
Appendix  II,  pp.  314-315.  Translated  by  Rawdon  Brown. 
Sebastian  Giustinian  was  Venetian  ambassador  to  Henry  VIII  from 
1 51  5  to  1 519.  This  account  of  Cardinal  Wolsey  is  from  a  report  which  "the 
Most  Noble  Messer  Sebastian  Giustinian,  Procurator  and  Knight,"  delivered 
in  the  Venetian  Senate  October  10,  1519. 

He  [Cardinal  Wolsey]  is  of  low  origin :  he  has  two 
brothers,  one  of  whom  holds  an  untitled  benefice,  and  the 
other  is  pushing  his  fortune. 

The  Cardinal  is  the  person  who  rules  both  the  King  and 
the  entire  kingdom.  On  the  ambassador's  first  arrival  in 
England,  he  used  to  say  to  him,  —  '"His  Majesty  will  do  so 
and  so"  :  subsequently  by  degrees,  he  went  forgetting  him- 
self, and  commenced  saying,  "  IVe  shall  do  so  and  so'' :  at 
this  present  he  has  reached  such  a  pitch  that  he  says,  "I shall 
do  so  and  so." 

He  is  about  forty-six  years  old,  ver)'  handsome,  learned, 
extremely  eloquent,  of  vast  ability  and  indefatigable.  He, 
alone,  transacts  the  same  business  as  that  which  occupies  all 
the  magistrates,  offices,  and  councils  of  Venice,  both  civic  and 
criminal ;  and  all  state  affairs,  likewise,  are  managed  by  him, 
let  their  nature  be  what  it  may. 

He  is  pensive,  and  has  the  reputation  of  being  extremely 
just :  he  favours  the  people  exceedingly,  and  especially  the 
poor ;  hearing  their  suits,  and  seeking  to  dispatch  them  in- 
stantly ;  he  also  makes  the  lawyers  plead  gratis  for  all  paupers. 

He  is  in  very  great  repute  —  seven  times  more  so  than  if 
he  were  Pope,  He  has  a  very  fine  palace,  where  one  traverses 
eight  rooms  before  reaching  his  audience  chamber,  and  they 
are  all  hung  with  tapestry,  which  is  changed  once  a  week. 


1 86  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

He  always  has  a  sideboard  of  plate  worth  25,000  ducats, 
wherever  he  may  be  ;  and  his  silver  is  estimated  at  150,000 
ducats.  In  his  own  chamber  there  is  always  a  cupboard  with 
vessels  to  the  amount  of  30,000  ducats,  this  being  customary 
with  the  English  nobility. 

He  is  supposed  to  be  very  rich  indeed,  in  money,  plate, 
and  household  stuff. 

The  Archbishopric  of  York  yields  him  about  1 4,000  ducats ; 
the  bishopric  of  Bath  8,000.  One  third  of  the  fees  derived 
from  the  great  seal  are  his  ;  the  other  two  are  divided  between 
the  King  and  the  Chancellor.  The  Cardinal's  share  amounts 
to  about  5,000  ducats.  By  the  new  year's  gifts,  which  he  re- 
ceives in  like  manner  as  the  King,  he  makes  some  15,000 
ducats.   .   .  . 

Cardinal  Wolsey  is  very  anxious  for  the  Signer}^  to  send 
him  one  hundred  Damascene  carpets,  for  which  he  has  asked 
several  times,  and  expected  to  receive  them  by  the  last  galleys. 
The  ambassador  urged  the  Senate  to  make  this  present,  as 
even  should  the  Signory  itself  not  choose  to  incur  the  expense, 
the  slightest  hint  to  the  London  factory  would  induce  that 
body  to  take  it  on  themselves  ;  and  this  gift  might  easily  set- 
tle the  affair  of  the  wines  of  Candia ;  that  is  to  say,  induce 
the  repeal  of  the  duties  on  sack  imported  by  Venetian  subjects. 
The  ambassador,  on  his  departure,  left  the  business  in  a  fair 
way,  and  consigned  all  the  documents  concerning  it  to  his  suc- 
cessor ;  but  to  discuss  the  matter  farther,  until  the  Cardinal 
receives  his  hundred  carpets,  would  be  idle.  This  present 
might  make  him  pass  a  decree  in  our  favour,  and,  at  any  rate, 
it  would  render  the  Cardinal  friendly  to  our  nation  in  other 
matters  ;  for  no  one  obtains  audience  from  him  unless  at  the 
third  or  fourth  attempt.  As  he  adopts  this  fashion  with  all 
the  lords  and  barons  of  England,  the  ambassador  made  light 
of  it,  and  at  length  had  recourse  to  the  expedient  of  making 


THK  DOWNFALL  OF  WOLSEY  187 

an  appointment  through  his  secretary,  who  sometimes  went 
six  or  seven  times  to  York  House  before  he  could  speak  to 
the  Cardinal. 

It  is  the  custom  for  the  ambassadors,  when  they  go  to  the 
court,  to  dine  there,  and  on  his  first  arrival  in  England,  they 
ate  at  the  Cardinal's  table,  but  now  no  one  is  served  with  the 
viands  of  the  sort  presented  to  the  Cardinal,  until  after  their 
removal  from  before  him. 


Number  ji 

THE  DOWNFALL  OF  WOLSEY 
William  Shakespeare.   King  Henry  the  Eighth. 

ACT  III 

Scene  IL    Ante-chamber  to  the  King's  apartment. 
Cardinal  Wolsey  S^alone'l 

Wolscy.   .   .   . 
Farewell,  a  long  farewell,  to  all  my  greatness ! 
This  is  the  state  of  man  :  to-day  he  puts  forth 
The  tender  leaves  of  hopes  ;  to-morrow  blossoms, 
And  bears  his  blushing  honours  thick  upon  him  ; 
The  third  day  comes  a  frost,  a  killing  frost, 
And  —  when  he  thinks,  good  easy  man,  full  surely 
His  greatness  is  a-ripening — nips  his  root, 
And  then  he  falls  as  I  do.    I  have  ventur'd. 
Like  little  wanton  boys  that  swim  on  bladders, 
This  many  summers  in  a  sea  of  glory, 
But  far  beyond  my  depth  ;   my  high-blown  pride, 


1 88  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

At  length  broke  under  me,  and  now  has  left  me, 
Wear}'  and  old  with  service,  to  the  mercy 
Of  a  rude  stream  that  must  for  ever  hide  me. 
Vain  pomp  and  glory  of  this  world,  I  hate  ye ! 
I  feel  my  heart  new  open'd.    O,  how  wretched 
Is  that  poor  man  that  hangs  on  princes'  favours ! 
There  is  betwixt  that  smile  we  would  aspire  to, 
That  sweet  aspect  of  princes,  and  their  ruin, 
More  pangs  and  fears  than  wars  or  women  have ; 
And  when  he  falls,  he  falls  like  Lucifer, 
Never  to  hope  again.  — 

Efiter  Cromwell  atnazedly 

Why,  how  now,  Cromwell ! 

Cronnvell.   I  have  no  power  to  speak,  sir. 

Wolsey.  What !  amaz'd 

At  my  misfortunes  1  can  thy  spirit  wonder 
A  great  man  should  decline  .?    Nay,  an  you  weep, 
I  am  fallen  indeed. 

Cromwell.  How  does  your  grace  ? 

Wolsey.  Why,  well : 

Never  so  truly  happy,  my  good  Cromwell. 
I  know  myself  now  ;  and  I  feel  within  me 
A  peace  above  all  earthly  dignities, 
A  still  and  quiet  conscience.    The  king  has  cur'd  me, 
I  humbly  thank  his  grace,  and  from  these  shoulders. 
These  ruin'd  pillars,  out  of  pity,  taken 
A  load  would  sink  a  navy  —  too  much  honour. 
O,  't  is  a  burthen,  Cromwell,  't  is  a  burthen 
Too  heavy  for  a  man  that  hopes  for  heaven  ! 

Cromwell.    I  am  glad  your  grace  has  made  that  right  use 
of  it. 


THE  DOWNFALL  O!"  WOLSEY  189 

Wolscf.    I  hope  I  have  :  I  am  able  now,  methinks  — 
Out  of  a  fortitude  of  soul  I  feel  — 
To  endure  more  miseries,  and  greater  far 
Than  my  weak-hearted  enemies  dare  offer. 
What  news  abroad  ? 

Cromzvell.  The  heaviest  and  the  worst 

Is  your  displeasure  with  the  king. 

Wolsey.  God  bless  him  ! 

Croinivcll.   The  next  is,  that  Sir  Thomas  More  is  chosen 
Lord  chancellor  in  your  place. 

Wolsey.  That 's  somewhat  sudden  ; 

But  he  's  a  learned  man.    May  he  continue 
Long  in  his  highness'  favour,  and  do  justice 
For  truth's  sake  and  his  conscience  ;  that  his  bones, 
When  he  has  run  his  course,  and  sleeps  in  blessings, 
May  have  a  tomb  of  orphans'  tears  wept  on  'em  ! 
What  more .? 

Cromzvell.    That  Cranmer  is  return 'd  with  welcome, 
Install'd  lord  archbishop  of  Canterbury'. 

Wolsey.    That 's  news  indeed  ! 

Cromwell.  Last,  that  the  Lady  Anne, 

W' hom  the  king  hath  in  secrecy  long  married. 
This  day  was  view'd  in  open  as  his  queen, 
Going  to  chapel ;  and  the  voice  is  now 
Only  about  her  coronation. 

Wolsey.    There  was  the  weight  that  pull'd  me  down.    O 
Cromwell ! 
The  king  has  gone  beyond  me  ;  all  my  glories 
In  that  one  woman  I  have  lost  for  ever. 
No  sun  shall  ever  usher  forth  mine  honours, 
Or  gild  again  the  noble  troops  that  waited 
Upon  my  smiles.    Go,  get  thee  from  me,  Cromwell ; 
I  am  a  poor  fallen  man,  unworthy  now 


190 


READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 


To  be  thv  lord  and  master.    Seek  the  king ; 
That  sun,  I  pray,  may  never  set !    I  have  told  him 
What  and  how  true  thou  art ;  he  will  advance  thee. 
Some  little  memory  of  me  will  stir  him  — 
I  know  his  noble  nature  —  not  to  let 
Thy  hopeful  service  perish  too.    Good  Cromwell, 
Neglect  him  not ;  make  use  now,  and  provide 
For  thine  own  future  safety. 

Cromzvell.  O  my  lord  ! 

Must  I  then  leave  you  ?  must  I  needs  forego 
So  good,  so  noble,  and  so  true  a  master } 
Bear  witness,  all  that  have  not  hearts  of  iron. 
With  what  a  sorrow  Cromwell  leaves  his  lord  !  — 
The  king  shall  have  my  service,  but  my  prayers 
For  ever  and  for  ever  shall  be  yours. 

Wolsey.    Cromwell,  I  did  nr)t  think  to  shed  a  tear 
In  all  my  miseries  ;  but  thou  hast  forc'd  me. 
Out  of  thy  honest  truth,  to  play  the  woman. 
Let 's  drv  our  eves  ;  and  thus  far  hear  me,  Cromwell ; 
And  —  when  I  am  forgotten,  as  I  shall  be, 
And  sleep  in  dull,  cold  marble,  where  no  mention 
Of  me  more  must  be  heard  of  —  say,  I  taught  thee  ; 
Say,  Wolsey,  that  once  trod  the  wa}'s  of  glory. 
And  sounded  all  the  depths  and  shoals  of  honour- 
Found  thee  a  way,  out  of  his  wrack,  to  rise  in  ; 
A  sure  and  safe  one,  though  thy  master  miss'd  it. 
Mark  but  my  fall,  and  that  that  ruin'd  me. 
Cromwell,  I  charge  thee,  fling  away  ambition  : 
By  that  sin  fell  the  angels  ;  how  can  man,  then. 
The  image  of  his  Maker,  hope  to  win  by  't } 
Love  thyself  last ;  cherish  those  hearts  that  hate  thee 
Corruption  wins  not  more  than  honesty. 
Still  in  thy  right  hand  carry  gentle  peace, 


'I'UK  DOWNFALL  OF  WOLSEY 


191 


To  silence  envious  tongues  ;  be  just,  and  fear  not. 

Let  all  the  ends  thou  aim'st  at  be  thy  country's, 

Thy  God's  and  truth's  ;  then,  if  thou  fall'st,  O  Cromwell ! 

Thou  fall'st  a  blessed  martyr.    Serve  the  king ; 

And,  —  prithee,  lead  me  in  : 

There  take  an  inventory  of  all  I  have. 

To  the  last  penny  ;   't  is  the  king's  :  my  robe. 

And  my  integrity  to  heaven,  is  all 

I  dare  now  call  mine  own.    O  Cromwell,  Cromwell ! 

Mad  I  but  serv'd  my  God  with  half  the  zeal 

I  serv'd  my  king,  he  would  not  in  mine  age 

Have  left  me  naked  to  mine  enemies. 

CroinwcU.    Good  sir,  have  patience. 

Wolscy.  So  I  have.    Farewell 

The  hopes  of  court !  my  hopes  in  heaven  do  dwell.     [Exeunt 

ACT  IV 

Scene  IL    Kimbolton 

Enter  Katherine,  sick ;  led  betzveen  Griffith  atid  Patience 

GriffitJi.    How  does  your  grace  .-' 

Katlicriiic.  O,  Griffith,  sick  to  death  ; 

My  legs,  like  loaden  branches,  bow  to  the  earth, 
Willing  to  leave  their  burthen.    Reach  a  chair  :  — 
So,  —  now,  methinks,  I  feel  a  little  ease. 
Did'st  thou  not  tell  me,  Griffith,  as  thou  led'st  me. 
That  the  great  child  of  honour,  Cardinal  W'olsey, 
Was  dead  1 

Cr-iffitJi.    Ves,  madam  ;  but  I  think  your  grace. 
Out  of  the  pain  you  suffer'd,  gave  no  ear  to  't. 

Katherine.    Prithee,  good  Griffith,  tell  me  how  he  died  ; 
If  well,  he  stepp'd  before  me,  happily, 
For  my  example. 


192  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

Griffith.  Well,  the  voice  goes,  madam  ; 

For  after  the  stout  Earl  Northumberland 
Arrested  him  at  York,  and  brought  him  forward, 
As  a  man  sorely  tainted,  to  his  answer, 
He  fell  sick  suddenly,  and  grew  so  ill 
He  could  not  sit  his  mule. 

Katheriiie.  Alas,  poor  man  ! 

Gnffith.   At  last,  with  easy  roads,  he  came  to  Leicester, 
Lodg'd  in  the  abbey,  where  the  reverend  abbot 
With  all  his  convent,  honourably  receiv'd  him  ; 
To  whom  he  gave  these  words  :  '  O  father  abbot. 
An  old  man,  broken  with  the  storms  of  state. 
Is  come  to  lay  his  weary  bones  among  ye ; 
Give  him  a  little  earth  for  charity  ! ' 
So  went  to  bed,  where  eagerly  his  sickness 
Pursued  him  still ;  and  three  nights  after  this, 
About  the  hour  of  eight,  which  he  himself 
Foretold  should  be  his  last,  full  of  repentance, 
Continual  meditations,  tears,  and  sorrows, 
He  gave  his  honours  to  the  world  again. 
His  blessed  part  to  heaven,  and  slept  in  peace. 

Katherinc.    So  may  he  rest !  his  faults  lie  gently  on  him 
Yet  thus  far,  Griffith,  give  me  leave  to  speak  him, 
And  yet  with  charity.    He  was  a  man 
Of  an  unbounded  stomach,  ever  ranking 
Himself  with  princes  ;  one  that  by  suggestion 
Tith'd  all  the  kingdom  :  simony  was  fair  play ; 
His  own  opinion  was  his  law  :  i'  the  presence 
He  would  say  untruths,  and  be  ever  double. 
Both  in  his  words  and  meaning.    He  was  never. 
But  where  he  meant  to  ruin,  pitiful ; 
His  promises  were,  as  he  then  was,  mighty, 
But  his  performance,  as  he  is  now,  nothing. 


THE  DOWNFALL  OF  WOLSEY  193 

Of  his  own  body  he  was  ill,  and  gave 
The  clergy  ill  example. 

Griffith.  Noble  madam, 

Men's  evil  manners  live  in  brass  ;  their  virtues 
We  write  in  water.    May  it  please  your  highness 
To  hear  me  speak  his  good  now .'' 

Katlicriiic.  Yes,  good  Griffith  ; 

I  were  malicious  else. 

Griffith.  This  cardinal, 

Though  from  an  humble  stock,  undoubtedly 
Was  fashion 'd  to  much  honour  from  his  cradle. 
He  was  a  scholar,  and  a  ripe  and  good  one ; 
Exceeding  wise,  fair  spoken,  and  persuading ; 
Lofty  and  sour  to  them  that  lov'd  him  not. 
But  to  those  men  that  sought  him  sweet  as  summer. 
And  though  he  were  unsatisfied  in  getting  — 
Which  was  a  sin  —  yet  in  bestowing,  madam. 
He  was  most  princely  ;  ever  witness  for  him 
Those  twins  of  learning  that  he  rais'd  in  you, 
Ipswich  and  Oxford  !   one  of  which  fell  with  him, 
Unwilling  to  outlive  the  good  that  did  it ; 
The  other,  though  unfinish'd,  yet  so  famous, 
So  excellent  in  art,  and  still  so  rising, 
That  Christendom  shall  ever  speak  his  virtue. 
His  overthrow  heap'd  happiness  upon  him. 
For  then,  and  not  till  then,  he  felt  himself. 
And  found  the  blessedness  of  being  little  ; 
And,  to  add  greater  honours  to  his  age 
Than  man  could  give  him,  he  died  fearing  God. 


194  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

Number  j^ 
SIR  THOMAS   MORE 

William  Roper.  The  Mhrourof  Vetiue  in  Worldly  Greatnes  or  The  Life 
of  Sir  Thomas  More,  Knight,  passim. 
The  author  of  the  biography  from  which  this  selection  is  taken,  explains 
in  his  Preface  his  reasons  for  writing  it,  as  follows :  "  Forasmuch  as  Sir 
Thomas  More,  Knight,  sometime  Lord  Chancellor  of  England,  a  man  of 
singular  virtue  and  of  a  clear  unspotted  conscience  .  .  .  was  in  his  days 
accounted  a  man  worthy  perpetual  famous  memory  —  I,  William  Roper 
.  .  .  ,  his  son-in-law  by  marriage  of  his  eldest  daughter,  knowing  no  one  man 
that  of  him  and  of  his  doings  understood  so  much  as  myself  —  for  that  I 
was  continually  resident  in  his  house  by  the  space  of  sixteen  years  and 
more  —  thought  it  therefore  my  part  to  set  forth  such  matters  touching  his 
life  as  I  could  at  this  present  call  to  remembrance,"  etc. 

This  Sir  Thomas  More  after  he  had  been  brought  up  in 
the  Latin  tongue  at  St.  Anthony's  in  London,  was  by  his 
father's  procurement  received  into  the  house  of  the  right 
reverend,  wise  and  learned  prelate  Cardinal  Morton,  where 
though  he  was  young  of  years,  yet  would  he  at  Christmastide 
suddenly  sometimes  step  in  among  the  players,  and  never 
studying  for  the  matter  make  a  part  of  his  own  there  presently 
among  them,  which  made  the  lookers  on  more  sport  than  all 
the  players  beside.  In  whose  wit  and  towardness  the  Cardinal 
much  delighting,  would  often  say  of  him  unto  the  nobles 
that  divers  times  dined  with  him,  "  This  child  here  waiting 
at  the  table,  whosoever  shall  live  to  see  it,  will  prove  a  mar- 
vellous man."  Whereupon  for  his  better  furtherance  in 
learning  he  placed  him  at  Oxford,  where  when  he  was  both 
in  the  Greek  and  Latin  tongues  sufificiently  instructed,  he  was 
then,  for  the  study  of  the  law  of  the  Realm,  put  to  an  Inn 
of  Chancer}^  called  New  Inn:  where  for  his  time  he  very 
well  prospered,  and  from  thence  was  admitted  to  Lincoln's 
Inn,  with  very  small  allowance,  continuing  there  his  study 
until  he  was  made  and  accounted  a  worthy  utter  Barrister.  .  .  . 


SIR  THOMAS  MORE  1 95 

After  this  he  was  made  one  of  the  under-sheriffs  of  Lon- 
don, by  which  office  and  his  learning  together  (as  I  have 
heard  him  say)  he  gained  without  grief  not  so  Httle  as  four 
hundred  pounds  by  the  }car  :  sith  there  was  at  that  time  in 
none  of  the  prince's  courts  of  the  laws  of  this  realm  any 
matter  of  importance  in  controversy  wherein  he  was  not  with 
the  one  party  of  counsel.  Of  whom,  for  his  learning,  wisdom, 
knowledge  and  experience,  men  had  such  estimation,  that 
before  he  came  into  the  service  of  King  Henry  the  Eighth, 
at  the  suit  and  insUmce  of  the  English  merchants,  he  was, 
by  the  King's  consent,  made  twice  ambassador  in  certain 
great  causes  between  them  and  the  merchants  of  the  Stilliard, 
Whose  wise  and  discreet  dealing  therein,  to  his  high  com- 
mendation, coming  to  the  king's  understanding,  provoked 
his  highness  to  cause  Cardinal  Wolsey,  then  Lord  Chancellor, 
to  procure  him  to  his  service.  .  .  .  And  so  from  time  to  time 
was  he  by  the  king  advanced,  continuing  in  his  singular 
favour  and  trusty  service  twenty  years  and  above.  A  good 
part  thereof  used  the  king  upon  holy  days  when  he  had  done 
his  own  devotions,  to  send  for  him  into  his  traverse,  and 
there  —  sometimes  in  matters  of  astronomy,  geometr}',  divin- 
ity, and  such  other  faculties,  and  sometimes  of  his  worldly 
affairs  —  to  sit  and  confer  with  him.  And  otherwhiles,  in  the 
night  would  he  have  him  up  into  the  leads,  there  to  consider 
with  him  the  diversities,  courses,  motions,  and  operations 
of  the  stars  and  planets.  And  because  he  was  of  a  pleasant 
disposition,  it  pleased  the  king  and  queen,  after  the  council 
had  supped,  at  the  time  of  their  supper,  for  their  pleasure 
commonly  to  call  for  him  to  be  merry  with  them.  When  he 
perceived  them  so  much  in  his  talk  to  delight,  that  he  could 
not  once  in  a  month  get  leave  to  go  home  to  his  wife  and 
children  (whose  company  he  most  desired),  and  to  be  absent 
from  the  court  two  days  together  but  that  he  should  be  thither 


196  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

sent  for  again  :  he  much  misHking  this  restraint  of  his  hberty, 
began  thereupon  somewhat  to  dissemble  his  nature,  and  so, 
by  Httle  and  little,  from  his  former  mirth  to  disuse  himself, 
that  he  was  of  them  from  henceforth  at  such  seasons  no  more 
so  ordinarily  sent  for.  .  .  . 

.  .  .  And  for  the  pleasure  he  took  in  his  company  would 
his  grace  suddenly  sometimes  come  home  to  his  house  at 
Chelsea  to  be  merry  with  him,  whither,  on  a  time,  unlooked 
for,  he  came  to  dinner,  and  after  dinner,  in  a  fair  garden  of 
his,  walked  with  him  by  the  space  of  an  hour,  holding  his 
arm  about  his  neck.  As  soon  as  his  grace  was  gone,  I  re- 
joicing thereat,  said  to  Sir  Thomas  More,  how  happy  he 
was  whom  the  king  had  so  familiarly  entertained,  as  I  never 
had  seen  him  do  to  any  before,  except  Cardinal  Wolsey, 
whom  I  saw  his  grace  walk  once  with  arm  in  arm.  "  I  thank 
our  Lord,  son,"  quoth  he,  "  I  find  his  grace  my  very  good 
lord  indeed,  and  I  believe  he  doth  as  singularly  favour  me, 
as  any  subject  within  this  realm  :  howbeit,  son  Roper,  I  may 
tell  thee,  I  have  no  cause  to  be  proud  thereof,  for  if  my  head 
would  win  him  a  castle  in  France  (for  then  there  was  war 
between  us),  it  should  not  fail  to  go." 

...  So  on  a  time  walking  with  me  along  the  Thames' 
side  at  Chelsea,  in  talking  of  other  things  he  said  unto  me, 
"  Now  would  to  our  Lord,  son  Roper,  upon  condition  that 
three  things  were  well  established  in  Christendom,  I  were  put 
in  a  sack  and  here  presently  cast  into  the  Thames."  "  What 
great  things  be  those,  Sir,"  quoth  I,  "  that  should  move  you 
so  to  wish  y  "  Wouldst  thou  know,  son  Roper,  what  they 
be,"  quoth  he  .?  "  Yea  marry  with  a  good  will,  Sir,  if  it  please 
you,"  quoth  L  "In  faith,  son,  they  be  these,"  said  he,  "  the 
first  is,  that. whereas  the  most  part  of  Christian  princes  be  at 
mortal  war,  they  were  all  at  universal  peace.  The  second, 
that  where  the  church  of  Christ  is  at  this  present  sore  afflicted 


SIR  THOMAS  MORE  197 

with  many  errors  and  heresies,  it  were  well  settled  in  perfect 
uniformity  of  religion.  The  third,  that  where  the  matter  of 
the  king's  marriage  is  now  come  in  question,  it  were  to  the 
glory  of  God  and  quietness  of  all  parties  brought  to  a  good 
conclusion."  Whereby,  as  I  could  gather,  he  judged  that 
otherwise  it  would  be  a  disturbance  to  a  great  part  of 
Christendom.   .   .   . 

While  he  was  Lord  Chancellor,  being  at  leisure  (as  seldom 
he  was),  one  of  his  sons-in-law  on  a  time  said  merrily  unto 
him:  "When  Cardinal  Wolsey  was  Lord  Chancellor,  not  only 
divers  of  his  privy  chamber,  but  such  also  as  were  his  door- 
keepers, gat  great  gain  ;  "  .  .  .  where  he  indeed,  because  he 
was  ready  himself  to  hear  every  man,  poor  and  rich,  and  keep 
no  doors  shut  from  them,  could  find  none  ;  which  was  to  him 
a  great  discouragement.  .  .  .  When  he  had  told  him  this  tale, 
"you  say  well,  son,"  quoth  he,  "I  do  not  mislike  that  you 
are  of  conscience  so  scrupulous  ;  but  many  other  wa)s  be 
there,  son,  that  I  may  both  do  you  good  and  pleasure  your 
friend  also.  .  .  .  Howbeit  this  one  thing,  son,  I  assure  thee 
on  my  faith,  that  if  the  parties  will  at  my  hands  call  for  jus- 
tice, then  all-were-it  my  father  stood  on  the  one  side,  and  the 
devil  on  the  other,   .   .   .  the  devil  should  have  right."   .   .  . 

.  .  .  Now  upon  this  resignment  of  his  office,  came  Sir 
Thomas  Cromwell,  then  in  the  king's  high  favour,  to  Chelsea 
to  him  with  a  message  from  the  king.  Wherein  when  they 
had  thoroughly  communed  together,  "  Master  Cromwell," 
quoth  he,  "  you  are  now  entered  into  the  service  of  a  most 
noble,  wise,  and  liberal  prince  ;  if  you  will  follow  my  poor 
advice,  you  shall,  in  your  counsel-giving  to  his  grace,  ever 
tell  him  what  he  ought  to  do,  but  never  what  he  is  able  to 
do.  So  shall  you  show  yourself  a  tme  faithful  servant,  and  a 
right  wise  and  worthy  counsellor.  For  if  a  lion  knew  his  own 
strength,  hard 'were  it  for  any  man  to  rule  him."   .  .  . 


198  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

At  the  parliament  following  was  there  put  into  the  Lords' 
house  a  bill  to  attaint  .  .  .  Sir  Thomas  More  and  certain 
others  of  misprision  of  treason  ;  the  king  presupposing  of 
likelihood  that  this  bill  would  be  to  Sir  Thomas  More  so 
troublous  and  terrible  that  it  would  force  him  to  relent  and 
condescend  to  his  request ;  wherein  his  grace  was  much 
deceived.  .  .  .  After  this,  as  the  Duke  of  Norfolk  and  Sir 
Thomas  More  chanced  to  fall  in  familiar  talk  together,  the 
Duke  said  unto  him  :  "By  the  mass,  Master  More,  it  is  peril- 
ous striving  with  princes,  therefore  I  would  wish  you  some- 
what to  incline  to  the  king's  pleasure.  For  by  God's  body, 
Master  More,  hidignatio  ptincipis  viors  est."'  ^  "Is  that  all, 
my  lord.?"  quoth  he.  "Then  in  good  faith  the  difference 
between  your  grace  and  me  is  but  this,  that  /  shall  die  to-day 
and yoii  to-morrozv.'"  .  .  .  And  albeit  in  the  beginning  they 
were  resolved  that  with  an  oath,  not  to  be  acknown,  whether 
he  had  to  the  supremacy  been  sworn,  or  what  he  thought 
thereof,  he  should  be  discharged  ;  yet  did  Queen  Anne  by 
her  importunate  clamour  so  sore  exasperate  the  king  against 
him,  that,  contraiy  to  his  former  resolution,  he  caused  the 
said  Oath  of  the  Supremacy  to  be  ministered  unto  him.  Who 
albeit  he  made  a  discreet  qualified  answer,  nevertheless  was 
committed  to  the  Tower.  .   .   . 

When  Sir  Thomas  More  had  continued  a  good  while  in 
the  Tower,  my  lady,  his  wife,  obtained  license  to  see  him. 
Who,  at  her  first  coming,  like  a  simple  ignorant  woman,  and 
somewhat  worldly  too,  with  this  manner  of  salutation  bluntly 
saluted  him :  "  What  the  good-yere.  Master  More,"  quoth  she, 
"  I  marvel  that  you  that  have  been  always  hitherto  taken  for 
so  wise  a  man  will  now  so  play  the  fool  to  lie  here  in  this 
close  filthy  prison,  and  be  content  thus  to  be  shut  up  among 
mice  and  rats,  when  you  might  be  abroad  at  your  liberty,  and 

1  The  anger  of  a  prince  is  death. 


SIR    THOMAS  MORE  1 99 

with  the  favour  and  good  will  both  of  the  king  and  his  council 
if  you  would  but  do  as  all  the  bishops  and  best  learned  of 
this  realm  have  done.  And  seeing  you  have  at  Chelsea  a 
right  fair  house,  your  library,  your  gallery,  your  garden,  your 
orchard,  and  all  other  necessaries  so  handsome  about  you, 
where  you  might  in  the  company  of  me  your  wife,  your  chil- 
dren, and  household,  be  merry,  I  muse  what  a  God's  name 
you  mean  here  still  thus  fondly  to  tarry."  After  he  had  a 
while  quietly  heard  her,  with  a  cheerful  countenance  he  said 
unto  her:  "  I  pray  thee,  good  Mistress  Alice,  tell  me  one 
thing  !  "  "  What  is  that  .-•  "  quoth  she.  "  Is  not  this  house," 
quoth  he,  "  as  nigh  heaven  as  mine  own  !  "  To  whom  she 
after  her  accustomed  homely  fashion,  not  hking  such  talk, 
answered  :  '"  Tylle  valle,  Tylle  valle  !  "  "  How  say  you.  Mis- 
tress Alice,  is  it  not  so  .''  "  "Bone  Dciis,  bone  Dens,  man, 
will  this  gear  never  be  left .-'  "  quoth  she.  "  Well  then.  Mis- 
tress Alice,  if  it  be  so,"  quoth  he,  "it  is  very  well.  For  I 
see  no  great  cause  why  I  should  much  joy  in  my  gay  house, 
or  in  anything  thereunto  belonging,  when  if  I  should  but 
seven  years  lie  buried  under  the  ground  and  then  arise  and 
come  thither  again,  I  should  not  fail  to  find  some  therein 
that  would  bid  me  get  out  of  doors,  and  tell  me  it  were  none 
of  mine.  What  cause  have  I  then  to  like  such  a  house  as 
would  so  soon  forget  his  master.?  "  So  her  persuasions  moved 
him  but  a  little.  Not  long  after  came  to  him  the  Lord  Chan- 
cellor, the  Dukes  of  Norfolk  and  Suffolk,  with  Master  Secre- 
tary, and  certain  other  of  the  privy  council,  at  two  several 
times  by  all  policies  possible  procuring  him  either  precisely 
to  confess  the  Supremacy,  or  precisely  to  deny  it.  whereunto, 
as  appeareth  by  his  examinations  in  the  said  great  book,  they 
could  never  bring  him.  Shortly  thereupon  Master  Rich,  after- 
ward Lord  Rich,  then  newly  made  the  King's  Solicitor,  Sir 
Richard  Southwell,  and  one  blaster  Palmer,  servant  to  the 


200  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

Secretar)^,  were  sent  to  Sir  Thomas  More  into  the  Tower  to 
fetch  away  his  books  from  him.  And  while  Sir  Richard 
Southwell  and  Mr.  Palmer  were  busy  in  the  trussing  up  of 
his  books,  Mr.  Rich,  pretending  friendly  talk  with  him,  among 
other  things  of  a  set  course,  as  it  seemed,  said  thus  unto 
him  :  "  Forasmuch  as  it  is  well  known,  Master  More,  that 
you  are  a  man  both  wise  and  well  learned  as  well  in  the  laws 
of  the  realm  as  otherwise,  I  pray  you  therefore.  Sir,  let  me  be 
so  bold,  as  of  good  will,  to  put  unto  you  this  case.  Admit 
there  were.  Sir,"  quoth  he,  "an  act  of  parliament  that  the 
realm  should  take  me  for  king,  would  not  you,  Mr.  More, 
take  me  for  king.?  "  "Yes,  Sir,"  quoth  Sir  Thomas  More, 
"  that  would  I."  "I  put  the  case  further,"  quoth  Mr,  Rich, 
"'  that  there  were  an  act  of  parliament  that  all  the  realm  should 
take  me  for  pope,  would  you  not  then.  Master  More,  take  me 
for  pope  .?  "  "  For  answer,  Sir,"  quoth  Sir  Thomas  More,  "  to 
your  first  case,  the  parliament  may  well.  Master  Rich,  meddle 
with  the  state  of  temporal  princes,  but  to  make  answer  to 
your  other  case,  I  will  put  you  this  case  :  suppose  the  Parlia- 
ment would  make  a  law  that  God  should  not  be  God,  would 
you  then,  Master  Rich,  say  that  God  were  not  God  ?  "  '"  No, 
Sir,"  quoth  he,  "that  would  I  not,  sith  no  parliament  may 
make  any  such  law."  "  No  more,"  said  Sir  Thomas  More 
(as  Master  Rich  reported  him),  "  could  the  Parliament  make 
the  king  supreme  head  of  the  church,"  Upon  whose  only 
report  was  Sir  Thomas  More  indicted  of  high  treason  on  the 
Statute  to  deny  the  king  to  be  Supreme  Head  of  the  Church, 
into  which  indictment  were  put  these  heinous  words,  juali- 
ciously,  traitorously  and  diabolically. 

.  .  .  Now,  after  his  arraignment,  departed  he  from  the 
bar  to  the  Tower  again,  led  by  Sir  William  Kingston,  a  tall, 
strong,  and  comely  knight,  Constable  of  the  Tower,  and  his 
very  dear  friend.     Who,  when  he  had  brought  him  from 


SIR  THOMAS  MORE  20I 

Westminster  to  the  Old  Swan  towards  the  Tower,  there  with 
a  heavy  heart,  the  tears  running  down  his  cheeks,  bade  him 
farewell.  Sir  Thomas  More,  seeing  him  so  sorrowful,  com- 
forted him  with  as  good  words  as  he  could,  saying  :  "'  Good 
Master  Kingston,  trouble  not  yourself,  but  be  of  good  cheer : 
for  I  will  pn\y  for  you  and  my  good  lady  your  wife,  that  we 
may  meet  in  heaven  together,  where  we  shall  be  merry  for  ever 
and  ever."  Soon  after  Sir  William  Kingston,  talking  with 
me  of  Sir  Thomas  More,  said  :  "In  good  faith,  Mr.  Roper, 
I  was  ashamed  of  myself  that  at  my  departing  from  your 
father  I  found  my  heart  so  feeble  and  his  so  strong,  that  he 
was  fain  to  comfort  me  that  should  rather  have  comforted 
him."  When  Sir  Thomas  More  came  from  Westminster  to 
the  Tower-ward  again,  his  daughter,  my  wife,  desirous  to  see 
her  father,  whom  she  thought  she  would  never  see  in  this 
world  after,  and  also  to  have  his  final  blessing,  gave  attend- 
ance about  the  Tower  Wharf,  where  she  knew  he  should  pass 
by,  before  he  could  enter  into  the  Tower.  There  tarr)dng  his 
coming,  as  soon  as  she  saw  him,  after  his  blessing  upon  her 
knees  reverently  received,  she  hasting  towards  him,  without 
consideration  or  care  of  herself,  pressing  in  amongst  the 
midst  of  the  throng  and  company  of  the  guard,  that  with  hal- 
berds and  bills  went  round  about  him,  hastily  ran  to  him,  and 
there  openly  in  sight  of  them  all,  embraced  him,  and  took  him 
about  the  neck  and  kissed  him.  Who  well  liking  her  most 
natural  and  dear  daughterly  affection  towards  him,  gave  her 
his  fatherly  blessing,  and  many  godly  words  of  comfort  besides. 
From  whom  after  she  was  departed,  she  not  satisfied  with 
the  former  sight  of  her  dear  father,  and  like  one  that  had  for- 
gotten herself,  being  all  ravished  with  the  entire  love  of  her 
dear  father,  having  respect  neither  to  herself,  nor  to  the 
press  of  people  and  multitude  that  were  there  about  him,  sud- 
denly turned  back  again,  ran  to  him  as  before,  took  him  about 


202  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

the  neck,  and  divers  times  kissed  him  most  lovingly ;  and  at 
last,  with  a  full  and  heavy  heart,  was  fain  to  depart  from  him  : 
the  beholding  whereof  was  to  many  of  them  that  were  pres- 
ent thereat  so  lamentable,  that  it  made  them  for  very  sorrow 
thereof  to  weep  and  mourn. 

So  remained  Sir  Thomas  More  in  the  Tower,  more  than 
a  seven-night  after  his  judgment.  From  whence,  the  day  be- 
fore he  suffered,  he  sent  his  shirt  of  hair,  not  willing  to  have 
it  seen,  to  my  wife,  his  dearly  beloved  daughter,  and  a  letter 
written  with  a  coal  .  .  .  plainly  expressing  the  fervent  desire 
he  had  to  suffer  on  the  morrow,  in  these  words  following : 
"  I  cumber  you,  good  Margret,  much,  but  would  be  sorry  if 
it  should  be  any  longer  than  to-morrow.  For  to-morrow  is 
St.  Thomas  even,  and  the  Utas  of  St.  Peter,  and  therefore 
to-morrow  I  long  to  go  to  God  :  it  were  a  day  very  meet  and 
convenient  for  me.  Dear  Megg,  I  never  liked  your  manner 
better  towards  me  than  when  you  kissed  me  last.  For  I  like 
when  daughterly  love  and  dear  charity  hath  no  leisure  to  look 
to  worldly  courtesy."   .   .   . 

And  so  was  he  by  Master  Lieutenant  brought  out  of  the 
Tower,  and  from  thence  led  towards  the  place  of  execution. 
Where,  going  up  the  scaffold,  which  was  so  weak  that  it  was 
ready  to  fall,  he  said  merrily  to  the  Lieutenant :  "  I  pray  you. 
Master  Lieutenant,  see  me  safe  up,  and  for  my  coming  down 
let  me  shift  for  myself."  Then  desired  he  all  the  people 
thereabout  to  pray  for  him,  and  to  bear  witness  with  him, 
that  he  should  now  there  suffer  death  in  and  for  the  faith  of 
the  holy  Catholic  Church.  Which  done,  he  kneeled  down, 
and,  after  his  prayers  said,  turned  to  the  executioner  with  a 
cheerful  countenance,  and  said  unto  him  :  "  Pluck  up  thy 
spirits,  man,  and  be  not  afraid  to  do  thine  office  :  my  neck 
is  very  short,  take  heed,  therefore,  thou  strike  not  awr)',  for 
saving  of  thine  honesty."    So  passed  Sir  Thomas  More  out 


THK  EDUCATION  OF  T.ADV  J  \XF.  OREY       203 

of  this  world  to  God,  upon  the  very  same  day  which  he  most 
desired.  Soon  after  his  death  came  intclHgence  thereof  to 
the  Emperor  Charles.  Whereupon  he  sent  for  Sir  Thomas 
Eliott,  our  English  ambassador,  and  said  to  him  :  "  My  Lord 
ambassador,  we  understand  that  the  king  your  master  hath 
put  his  faithful  servant,  and  grave  wise  councillor,  Sir  Thomas 
More,  to  death."  Whereupon  Sir  Thomas  Eliott  answered 
that  '"  he  understood  nothing  thereof."  "  Well,"  said  the 
Emperor,  "it  is  too  true  :  and  this  will  we  say,  that  had  we 
been  master  of  such  a  servant,  of  whose  doings  ourselves 
have  had  these  many  years  no  small  experience,  we  would 
rather  have  lost  the  best  city  of  our  dominions,  than  have  lost 
such  a  worthy  councillor."   .  .  . 


Number  ^^ 

THE   EDUCATION   OF   LADY  JANE   GREY  AND 
OF   QUEEN   ELIZABETH 

Roger  AfcuA.M.    The  Sckolemafier,  pp.  46-48,  67-68.    Edition  of  Edward 
Arber. 
Roger  Ascham,  a  famous  writer  and  teacher  of  the  time  of  EUzabeth,  was 
the  tutor  of  the  Princess  Elizabeth  and  of  Lady  Jane  Grey. 


LADY  JANE   GREY 

And  one  example,  whether  loue  or  fearc  doth  worke  more 
in  a  child,  for  vertue  and  learning,  I  will  gladlie  report : 
which  male  be  h[e]ard  with  fome  pleafure,  and  folowed  with 
more  profit.  Before  I  went  into  Gennanie,  I  came  to  Brode- 
gatc  in  Le[i]cefterf  hire,  to  take  my  leaue  of  that  noble  Ladie 
Ia7te  Grey,  to  whom  I  was  exceding  moch  beholdinge.  Hir 
parentes,   the   Duke  and    Duches,   with    all    the    houfhold, 


204  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

Gentlemen  and  Gentlewomen,  were  huntinge  in  the  Parke  : 
I  founde  her,  in  her  Chamber,  readinge  Phccdon  Platonis  in 
Greeke,  and  that  with  as  moch  delite,  as  fom  ientlemen  wold 
read  a  merie  tale  in  Bocafe.  After  falutation,  and  dewtie  done, 
with  fom  other  taulke,  I  afked  hir,  whie  fhe  wold  leefe  foch 
paftime  in  the  Parke  ?  fmiling  fhe  anfwered  me  :  I  wiffe,  all 
their  fporte  in  the  Parke  is  but  a  f hadoe  to  that  pleafure,  that 
I  find  in  Plato :  Alas  good  folke,  they  neuer  felt,  what  trewe 
pleafure  ment.  And  howe  came  you  Madame,  quoth  I,  to 
this  deepe  knowledge  of  pleafure,  and  what  did  chieflie  allure 
you  vnto  it :  feinge,  not  many  women,  but  verie  fewe  men 
haue  atteined  thereunto.  I  will  tell  you,  quoth  fhe,  and  tell 
you  a  troth,  which  perchance  ye  will  meruell  at.  One  of  the 
greateft  benefites,  that  euer  God  gaue  me,  is,  that  he  fent 
me  fo  fharpe  and  feuere  Parentes,  and  fo  ientle  a  fchole- 
mafter.  P'or  when  I  am  in  prefence  either  of  father  or 
mother,  whether  I  fpeake,  kepe  filence,  fit,  ftand,  or  go, 
eate,  drinke,  be  merie,  or  fad,  be  fowyng,  plaiyng,  dauncing, 
or  doing  anie  thing  els,  I  muft  do  it,  as  it  were,  in  foch 
weight,  mefure,  and  number,  euen  fo  perfitelie,  as  God  made 
the  world,  or  elfe  I  am  fo  f harplie  taunted,  fo  cruellie  threat- 
ened, yea  prefentlie  fome  tymes,  with  pinches,  nippes,  and 
bobbes,  and  other  waies,  which  I  will  not  name,  for  the  honor 
I  beare  them,  fo  without  meafure  mifordered,  that  I  thinke 
myfelfe  in  hell,  till  tyme  cum,  that  I  muft  go  to  M.  Elmer, 
who  teacheth  me  fo  ientlie,  fo  pleafantlie,  with  foch  faire 
allurementes  to  learning,  that  I  thinke  all  the  tyme  nothing, 
whiles  I  am  with  him.  And  when  I  am  called  from  him,  I 
fall  on  weeping,  becaufe,  what  foeuer  I  do  els,  but  learning, 
is  ful  of  grief,  trouble,  feare,  and  whole  mifliking  vnto  me : 
And  thus  my  booke,  hath  bene  fo  moch  my  pleafure,  and 
bringeth  dayly  to  me  more  pleafure  and  more,  that  in  refpect 
of  it,  all  other  pleafures,  in  very  deede,  be  but  trifles  and 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  (lUEEN   ]<:LlZAi3ETII       205 

troubles  vnto  nic.  I  remember  this  talke  gladly,  both  bicaufe 
it  is  fo  worthy  of  memorie,  and  bicaufe  alfo,  it  was  the  laft 
talkc  that  euer  I  had,  and  the  laft  tyme,  that  euer  I  faw  that 
noble  and  worthie  Ladie. 

II 

QUEEN   ELIZABETH 

It  is  your  fhame,  (I  fpeake  to  you  all,  you  yong  lentle- 
men  of  England)  that  one  mayd[e]  f  hould  go  beyond  you  all, 
in  excellencie  of  learnyng,  and  knowledge  of  diuers  tonges. 
Pointe  forth  fix  of  the  beft  giuen  lentlemen  of  this  Court, 
and  all  they  together,  fhew  not  fo  much  good  will,  fpend  not 
fo  much  tyme,  beftow  not  fo  many  houres,  dayly,  orderly, 
and  conftantly,  for  the  increafe  of  learning  and  knowledge, 
as  doth  the  Oueenes  Maieftie  her  felfe.  Yea  I  beleue,  that 
befidc  her  perfit  readines,  in  Latin,  Italian,  FirncJi,  and 
Spanish,  fhe  readeth  here  now  at  Windfore  more  Greeke 
euery  day,  than  fome  Prebendarie  of  this  Chirch  doth  read 
Latin  in  a  whole  weeke.  And  that  which  is  moft  praife 
worthie  of  all,  witliin  the  walles  of  her  priuic  chamber,  fhe 
hath  obtevned  that  excellencie  of  learnvng,  to  vndcrftand, 
fpeake,  and  write,  both  wittely  with  head,  and  faire  with  hand, 
as  fcarce  one  or  two  rare  wittes  in  both  the  Vniuerfities  haue 
in  many  yeares  reached  vnto.  Amongeft  all  the  benefites  yat 
God  hath  bleffed  me  with  all,  next  the  knowledge  of  Chriftes 
true  Religion,  I  counte  this  the  greateft,  that  it  pleafed  God 
to  call  me,  to  be  one  poore  minifter  in  fettyng  forward  thefe 
excellent  giftes  of  learnyng  in  this  moft  excellent  Prince. 
Whofe  onely  example,  if  the  reft  of  our  nobilitie  would  folow, 
then  might  England  be,  for  learnyng  and  wifedome  in  nobili- 
tie, a  fpectacle  to  all  the  world  befide.  But  fee  the  mifhap 
of  men  :  the  beft  examples  haue  neuer  fuch  forfe  to  moue  to 
any  goodnes,  as  the  bad,  vaine,  light  and  fond,  haue  to  all  ilnes. 


2o6  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

Number  J4 
THE  CHARACTER  OF  ELIZABETH 

J.  R.  Green.  A  Sho7-t  Histoiy  of  the  E7iglish  People,  illustrated  edition, Vol.  II, 
PP-  733-745' /''•f-f''"- 

England's  one  hope  lay  in  the  character  of  her  Queen. 
Elizabeth  was  now  in  her  twent)'-fifth  year.  Personally  she 
had  more  than  her  mother's  beauty ;  her  figure  was  com- 
manding, her  face  long  but  queenly  and  intelligent,  her  eyes 
quick  and  fine.  She  had  grown  up  amidst  the  liberal  culture 
of  Henry's  Court,  a  bold  horsewoman,  a  good  shot,  a  graceful 
dancer,  a  skilled  musician,  and  an  accomplished  scholar.  She 
studied  ever}'  morning  the  Greek  Testament,  and  followed 
this  by  the  tragedies  of  Sophocles  or  orations  of  Demosthenes, 
and  could  "  rub  up  her  rusty  Greek  "  at  need  to  bandy  ped- 
antry with  a  Vice-Chancellor.  But  she  was  far  from  being  a 
mere  pedant.  The  new  literature  which  was  springing  up 
around  her  found  constant  welcome  in  her  Court.  She  spoke 
Italian  and  French  as  fluently  as  her  mother-tongue.  She  was 
familiar  with  Ariosto  and  Tasso,  Even  amidst  the  affectation 
and  love  of  anagrams  and  puerilities  which  sullied  her  latter 
years,  she  listened  with  delight  to  the  "  Faery  Queen,"  and 
found  a  smile  for  "Master  Spenser"  when  he  appeared  in 
her  presence.  Her  moral  temper  recalled  in  its  strange  con- 
trasts the  mixed  blood  within  her  veins.  She  was  at  once  the 
^daughter  of  Henry  and  of  Anne  Boleyn.  From  her  father  she 
inherited  her  frank  and  hearty  address,  her  love  of  popularity 
and  of  free  intercourse  with  the  people,  her  dauntless  courage 
and  her  amazing  self-confidence.  Her  harsh,  man-like  voice, 
her  impetuous  will,  her  pride,  her  furious  outbursts  of  anger 
came  to  her  with  her  Tudor  blood.  She  rated  great  nobles  as 
if  they  were  schoolboys ;  she  met  the  insolence  of  Essex  with 


THE  CITARACTF.R   OF  ELI/.\r.F.'Iir  207 

a  box  on  the  ear;  s.hc  would  break  now  and  then  into  the 
gravest  dehberations  to  swear  at  her  ministers  Hke  a  fishwife. 
But  strangely  in  contrast  with  the  violent  outlines  of  her 
Tudor  temper  stood  the  sensuous,  self-indulgent  nature  she 
derived  from  Anne  Boleyn.  Splendour  and  pleasure  were 
with  Elizabeth  the  very  air  she  breathed.  Her  delight  was  to 
move  in  perpetual  progresses  from  castle  to  castle  through  a 
series  of  gorgeous  pageants,  fanciful  and  extravagant  as  a 
caliph's  dream.  She  loved  gaiety  and  laughter  and  wit.  A 
happy  retort  or  a  finished  compliment  never  failed  to  win  her 
favour.  She  hoarded  jewels.  Her  dresses  were  innumerable. 
Her  vanity  remained,  even  to  old  age,  the  vanity  of  a  coquette 
in  her  teens.  No  adulation  was  too  fulsome  for  her,  no  flat- 
tery of  her  beauty  too  gross.  "To  see  her  was  heaven," 
Hatton  told  her,  "  the  lack  of  her  was  hell."  She  would  play 
with  her  rings  that  her  courtiers  might  note  the  delicacy  of 
her  hands  ;  or  dance  a  coranto  that  the  French  ambassador, 
hidden  dexterously  behind  a  curtain,  might  report  her  spright- 
liness  to  his  master.  Her  levity,  her  frivolous  laughter,  her 
unwomanly  jests  gave  colour  to  a  thousand  scandals.  Her 
character,  in  fact  like  her  portraits,  was  utterly  without  shade. 
Of  womanly  reserve  or  self-restraint  she  knew  nothing.  No 
instinct  of  delicacy  veiled  the  voluptuous  temper  which  had 
broken  out  in  the  romps  of  her  girlhood  and  showed  itself 
almost  ostentatiously  throughout  her  later  life.  Personal 
beauty  in  a  man  w^as  a  sure  passport  to  her  liking.  She 
patted  handsome  young  squires  on  the  neck  when  they  knelt 
to  kiss  her  hand,  and  fondled  her  "  sweet  Robin,"  Lord 
Leicester,  in  the  face  of  the  Court. 

It  was  no  wonder  that  the  statesmen  whom  she  outwitted 
held  Elizabeth  almost  to  the  last  to  be  little  more  than  a  frivo- 
lous woman,  or  that  Philip  of  Spain  wondered  how  a  "wanton  " 
could  hold  in  check  the  policy  of  the  Escurial.     But  the 


2o8  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH   HISTORY 

Elizabeth  whom  they  saw  was  far  from  being  all  of  Elizabeth. 
The  wilfulness  of  Henry,  the  triviality  of  Anne  Boleyn  played 
over  the  surface  of  a  nature  hard  as  steel,  a  temper  purely 
intellectual,  the  very  type  of  reason  untouched  by  imagination 
or  passion.  Luxurious  and  pleasure-loving  as  she  seemed, 
Elizabeth  lived  simply  and  frugally,  and  she  worked  hard. 
Her  vanity  and  caprice  had  no  weight  whatever  with  her  in 
State  affairs.  The  coquette  of  the  presence-chamber  became 
the  coolest  and  hardest  of  politicians  at  the  council-board. 
Fresh  from  the  flattery  of  her  courtiers,  she  would  tolerate 
no  flattery  in  the  closet ;  she  was  herself  plain  and  downright 
of  speech  with  her  counsellors,  and  she  looked  for  a  corre- 
sponding plainness  of  speech  in  return.  If  any  trace  of  her 
sex  lingered  in  her  actual  statesmanship,  it  was  seen  in  the 
simplicity  and  tenacity  of  purpose  that  often  underlies  a 
woman's  fluctuations  of  feeling.  It  was  this  in  part  which  gave 
her  her  marked  superiority  over  the  statesmen  of  her  time. 
No  nobler  group  of  ministers  ever  gathered  around  a  council- 
l^oard  than  those  who  gathered  around  the  council-board  of 
'Elizabeth.  But  she  was  the  instrument  of  none.  She  lis- 
tened, she  weighed,  she  used  or  put  by  the  counsels  of  each 
in  turn,  but  her  policy  as  a  whole  was  her  own.  It  was  a 
policy,  not  of  genius,  but  of  good  sense.  Her  aims  were 
simple  and  obvious  :  to  preserve  her  throne,  to  keep  England 
out  of  war,  to  restore  civil  and  religious  order.  Something 
of  womanly  caution  and  timidity  perhaps  backed  the  passion- 
less indifference  with  which  she  set  aside  the  larger  schemes 
of  ambition  which  were  ever  opening  before  her  eyes.  She  was 
resolute  in  her  refusal  of  the  Low  Countries.  She  rejected 
with  a  laugh  the  offers  of  the  Protestants  to  make  her  "  head 
of  the  religion "  and  "mistress  of  the  seas."  But  her  amazing 
success  in  the  end  sprang  mainly  from  this  wise  limitation 
of  her  aims.   She  had  a  finer  sense  than  any  of  her  counsellors 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  ELIZABETH  209 

of  her  real  resources  ;  she  knew  instinctively  how  far  she 
could  go,  and  what  she  could  do.  Her  cold,  critical  intellect 
was  never  swayed  by  enthusiasm  or  by  panic  either  to  ex- 
aggerate or  to  under-estimate  her  risks  or  her  power. 

Of  political  wisdom  indeed  in  its  larger  and  more  generous 
sense  Elizabeth  had  little  or  none ;  but  her  political  tact  was 
unerring.    She  seldom  saw  her  course  at  a  glance,  but  she 
played  with  a  hundred  courses,  fitfully  and  discursively,  as  a 
musician  runs  his  fingers  over  the  key-board,  till  she  hit 
suddenly  upon  the  right  one.  .  .  .  "No  War,  my  Lords," 
the  Queen  used  to  cry  imperiously  at  the  council-board,  "  No 
War !  "  but  her  hatred  of  war  sprang  less  from  her  aversion 
to  blood  or  to  expense,  real  as  was  her  aversion  to  both,  than 
from  the  fact  that  peace  left  the  field  open  to  her  diplomatic 
manoeuvres  and  intrigues  in  which  she  excelled.   .   .  .  She 
revelled  in  "bye-ways "  and  " crooked  ways."   She  played  with 
grave  cabinets  as  a  cat  plays  with  a  mouse,  and  with  much  of  the 
same  feline  delight  in  the  mere  embarrassment  of  her  victims. 
When  she  was  weary  of  mystifying  foreign  statesmen  she 
turned  to  find  fresh  sport  in  mystifying  her  own  ministers. 
Had  Elizabeth  written  the  story  of  her  reign  she  would  have 
prided  herself,  not  on  the  triumph  of  England  or  the  ruin  of 
Spain,  but  on  the  skill  with  which  she  had  hoodwinked  and 
out-witted  every  statesman  in  Europe,  during  fifty  years.   Nor 
was  her  trickery  without  political  value.    Ignoble,  inexpressibly 
wearisome  as  the  Queen's  diplomacy  seems  to  us  now,  tracing 
it  as  we  do  through  a  thousand  despatches,  it  succeeded  in  its 
main  end.    It  gained  time,  and  every  year  that  was  gained 
doubled  Elizabeth's  strength.    Nothing  is  more  revolting  in 
the  Queen,  but  nothing  is  more  characteristic,  than  her  shame- 
less mendacity.    It  was  an  age  of  political  lying,  but  in  the 
profusion  and  recklessness  of  her  lies  Elizabeth  stood  without 
a  peer  in  Christendom.    A  falsehood  was  to  her  simpl\-  an 


2IO  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

intellectual  means  of  meeting  a  difficulty ;  and  the  ease  with 
which  she  asserted  or  denied  whatever  suited  her  purpose 
was  only  equalled  by  the  cynical  indifference  with  which  she 
met  the  exposure  of  her  lies  as  soon  as  their  purpose  was 
answered.  ...  Her  levity  carried  her  gaily  over  moments  of 
detection  and  embarrassment  where  better  women  would  have 
died  of  shame.  .  .  .  She  turned  her  very  luxury  and  sports 
to  good  account.  There  were  moments  of  grave  danger  in 
her  reign  when  the  country  remained  indifferent  to  its  perils, 
as  it  saw  the  Queen  give  her  days  to  hawking  and  hunting, 
and  her  nights  to  dancing  and  plays.  Her  vanity  and  affecta- 
tion, her  womanly  fickleness  and  caprice,  air  had  their  part  in 
the  diplomatic  comedies  she  played  with  the  successive  candi- 
dates for  her  hand.  If  political  necessities  made  her  life  a 
lonely  one,  she  had  at  any  rate  the  satisfaction  of  averting  war 
and  conspiracies  by  love  sonnets  and  romantic  interviews, 
or  of  gaining  a  year  of  tranquillity  by  the  dexterous  spinning 
out  of  a  flirtation. 

As  we  track  Elizabeth  through  her  tortuous  mazes  of  lying 
and  intrigue,  the  sense  of  her  greatness  is  almost  lost  in  a  sense 
of  contempt.  .  .  .  "This  woman,"  Philip's  envoy  wrote  after 
a  wasted  remonstrance,  "this  woman  is  possessed  by  a  hundred 
thousand  devils."  To  her  own  subjects,  indeed,  who  knew 
nothing  of  her  manoeuvres  and  retreats,  of  her  "bye-ways" 
and  "  crooked  ways,"  she  seemed  the  embodiment  of  daunt- 
less resolution.  Brave  as  they  were,  the  men  who  swept  the 
Spanish  Main  or  glided  between  the  icebergs  of  Baffin's  Bay 
never  doubted  that  the  palm  of  bravery  lay  with  their  Queen. 
Her  steadiness  and  courage  in  the  pursuit  of  her  aims  was 
equalled  by  the  wisdom  with  which  she  chose  the  men  to 
accomplish  them.  vShe  had  a  quick  eye  for  merit  of  any  sort, 
and  a  wonderful  power  of  enlisting  its  whole  energy  in  her 
service.  The  sagacity  which  chose  Cecil  and  Walsingham  was 


EDUCATION  OF  MARY  QUEEN  OF  SCOTS      2  i  I 

just  as  unerring  in  its  choice  of  the  meanest  of  her  agents. 
Her  success  indeed  in  securing  from  the  beginning  of  her 
reign  to  its  end,  with  the  single  exception  of  Leicester,  pre- 
cisely the  right  men  for  the  work  she  set  them  to  do  sprang  in 
great  measure  from  the  noblest  characteristic  of  her  intellect. 
.  ,  .  But  the  greatness  of  the  Queen  rests  above  all  on  her 
power  over  her  people.  We  have  had  grander  and  nobler 
rulers,  but  none  so  popular  as  Elizabeth.  .  .  .  Her  worst  acts 
broke  fruitlessly  against  the  general  devotion.  A  Puritan, 
whose  hand  she  cut  off  in  a  freak  of  t)Tannous  resentment, 
waved  his  hat  with  the  hand  that  was  left,  and  shouted,  ' '  God 
save  Queen  Elizabeth!"  Of  her  faults,  indeed,  England 
beyond  the  circle  of  her  Court  knew  litde  or  nothing.  .  .  , 
If  Elizabeth  could  be  said  to  love  anything,  she  loved 
England.  "  Nothing,"  she  said  to  her  first  Parliament  in 
words  of  unwonted  fire,  "  nothing,  no  worldly  thing  under 
the  sun,  is  so  dear  to  me  as  the  love  and  good-will  of  my 
subjects."  And  the  love  and  good-will  which  were  so  dear 
to  hSr  she  fully  won. 

Number  ^^ 

EDUCATION  AND  ACCOMPLISHMENTS  OF 
MARY  QUEEN  OF  SCOTS 

George  Conn.  Quoted  by  Robert  S.  Rait,  Man>  Queen  of  Scots,  pp.  3-4. 
George  Conn  (Conaeus),  the  writer  of  this  selection,  belonged  to  a  Scot- 
tish family  of  Roman  Catholic  sympathies.  He  was  partly  educated  in 
Paris,  and  although  he  was  not  there  during  Mary  Stuart's  residence  in 
France,  he  probably  got  his  information  from  people  who  had  known  her. 

Her  main  course  of  study  was  directed  tow^ards  the  at- 
tainment of  the  best  European  languages.  So  graceful  was 
her  French  that  the  judgment  of  the  most  learned  men  recog- 
nised her  command  of  the  language  ;  nor  did  she  neglect 


2  12  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

Spanish  or  Italian,  although  she  aimed  rather  at  an  useful 
knowledge  than  at  a  pretentious  fluency.  She  followed  Latin 
more  readily  than  she  spoke  it.  The  charm  of  her  poetry  owed 
nothing  to  art.  Her  penmanship  was  clear,  and  (what  is  rare 
in  a  woman)  swift.  Her  excellence  in  singing  arose  from  a 
natural,  not  an  acquired,  ability  to  modulate  her  voice  :  the 
instruments  she  played  were  the  cittern,  the  harp,  and  the 
harpsichord.  Being  very  agile,  she  danced  admirably  to  a 
musical  accompaniment,  yet  with  beauty  and  comeliness,  for 
the  silent  and  gentle  movement  of  her  limbs  kept  time  to  the 
harmony  of  the  chords.  She  devoted  herself  to  learning  to 
ride  so  far  as  it  is  necessary  for  travelling  or  for  her  favourite 
exercise  of  hunting,  thinking  anything  further  more  fitted  for 
a  man  than  for  a  woman.  .  .  .  Several  tapestries  worked  by 
her  with  wonderful  skill  are  yet  to  be  seen  in  France,  dedicated 
to  the  altars  of  God,  especially  in  the  monastery  in  which  she 
was  nurtured  on  her  first  arrival  in  the  kingdom. 

Number  j6 

AN   INTERVIEW   BETWEEN   MARY   QUEEN   OF 
SCOTS  AND  JOHN    KNOX 

John  Knox.  History  of  the  Reformation  /«  Scotland,  Bk.  IV,  pp.  386-389. 
Robert  S.  Rait,  Mary  Queen  0/  Scots,  pp.  39-42. 
The  History  of  the  Reformation  in  Scotland,  from  which  this  selection 
was  taken,  was  written  by  John  Knox,  the  leader  of  the  Presbyterian  party. 
He  had  several  interesting  interviews  with  Mary  Stuart.  The  subject  of 
the  one  reported  here  was  Mary's  proposed  marriage  to  a  Roman  Cath- 
olic, a  marriage  which  would  be  very  distasteful  to  Knox  and  his  party. 

The  Provost  of  Glencludan,  Douglas  by  surname,  of  Drum- 
lanark,  was  the  man  that  gave  the  charge,  that  the  said  John  ^ 
should  present  himself  before  the  Queen,  which  he  did  soon 

IJohn  Knox. 


MARV  QUEEN  OE  SCOTS  AND  JOHN  KNOX     213 

after  dinner.  The  Lord  Ochiltree,  and  divers  of  the  faithful, 
bare  him  company  to  the  Abbey ;  i)uL  none  passed  in  to  the 
Queen  with  him  in  the  cabinet,  but  John  Erskine  of  Dun, 
then  superintendent  of  Angus  and  Mearns. 

The  Queen  in  a  vehement  fume  began  to  cry  out,  that  never 
Prince  was  used  as  she  was.  "  I  have  (said  she)  borne  with 
you  in  all  your  rigorous  manner  of  speaking,  both  against  my- 
self and  against  my  uncles  ;  yea,  I  have  sought  your  favour  by 
all  possible  means  ;  I  offered  unto  you  presence  and  audience, 
whensoever  it  pleased  you  to  admonish  me,  and  yet  I  cannot 
be  quit  of  you  ;  I  vow  to  God  I  shall  be  once  revenged."  And 
with  these  words  scarce  could  Marnoch,  her  secret  chamber 
boy,  get  napkins  to  hold  her  eyes  dry,  for  the  tears  and  the 
howling,  besides  womanly  weeping,  stayed  her  speech.  The 
said  John  did  patiently  abide  all  the  first  fume,  and  at  oppor- 
tunity answered,  "  True  it  is,  Madam,  your  Grace  and  I  have 
been  at  divers  controversies,  into  the  which  I  never  perceived 
your  Grace  to  be  offended  at  me  ;  but  when  it  shall  please  God 
to  deliver  you  from  that  bondage  of  darkness  and  error,  where- 
in ye  have  been  nourished,  for  the  lack  of  true  Doctrine,  your 
Majesty  will  find  the  liberty  of  my  tongue  nothing  offen- 
sive. Without  the  Preaching-place  (Madam)  I  think  few 
have  occasion  to  be  offended  at  me,  and  there  (Madam)  I  am 
not  master  of  myself,  but  must  obey  him  who  commands  me 
to  speak  plain,  and  to  flatter  no  flesh  upon  the  face  of  the 
earth.  .  .  ." 

"'  But  what  have  you  to  do  (said  she)  with  my  marriage  ?  Or, 
what  are  you  within  the  Commonwealth?" 

"A  subject  born  within  the  same  (said  he)  Madam  ;  and 
albeit  I  be  neither  Earl,  Lord,  nor  Baron  within  it,  )-et  hath 
God  made  me  (how  abject  that  ever  I  be  in  your  eyes)  a  profit- 
able and  useful  member  within  the  same  ;  yea.  Madam,  to  me 
it  appertaincth  no  less,  to  forewarn  of  such  things  as  may  hurt 


214 


READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 


it,  if  I  foresee  them,  than  it  doth  to  any  one  of  the  nobility ; 
for  both  my  vocation  and  conscience  craveth  plainness  of  me  ; 
and  therefore  (Madam)  to  yourself  I  say,  that  which  I  spake 
in  public,  whensoever  the  nobility  of  this  realm  shall  be  con- 
tent, and  consent,  that  you  be  subject  to  an  unlawful  husband, 
they  do  as  much  as  in  them  lieth  to  renounce  Christ,  to  banish 
the  Truth,  to  betray  the  freedom  of  this  realm,  and  perchance 
shall  in  the  end  do  small  comfort  to  yourself," 

At  these  words,  howling  was  heard,  and  tears  might  have 
been  seen  in  greater  abundance  than  the  matter  required.  John 
Erskine  of  Dun,  a  man  of  meek  and  gentle  spirit,  stood  be- 
side, and  entreated  what  he  could  to  mitigate  her  anger,  and 
gave  unto  her  many  pleasant  words,  of  her  beauty,  of  her  ex- 
cellency ;  and  how  that  all  the  princes  in  Europe  would  be 
glad  to  seek  her  favours.  But  all  that  was  to  cast  oil  into  the 
flaming  fire.  The  said  John  stood  still,  without  any  alteration 
of  countenance,  for  a  long  time,  while  that  the  Queen  gave 
place  to  her  inordinate  passion  ;  and  in  the  end  he  said, 
"  Madam,  in  God's  presence  I  speak,  I  never  delighted  in  the 
weeping  of  any  of  God's  creatures ;  yea,  I  can  scarcely  well 
abide  the  tears  of  mine  own  boys,  whom  my  own  hands  correct, 
much  less  can  I  rejoice  in  your  Majesty's  weeping ;  But  see- 
ing I  have  offered  unto  you  no  just  occasion  to  be  offended, 
but  have  spoken  the  truth,  as  my  vocation  craves  of  me,  I  must 
sustain  your  Majesty's  tears,  rather  than  I  dare  hurt  my 
conscience,  or  betray  the  Commonwealth  by  silence."  Here- 
with was  the  Queen  more  offended,  and  commanded  the 
said  John  to  pass  forth  of  the  cabinet,  and  to  abide  further 
of  her  pleasure  in  the  chamber. 

The  Laird  of  Dun  tarried,  and  Lord  John  of  Coldingham 
came  into  the  cabinet,  and  so  they  remained  with  her  near  the 
space  of  one  hour.  The  said  John  stood  in  the  chamber,  as 
one  whom  men  had  never  seen  (so  were  all  afraid),  except  that 


MARY  QUEEN  OF  SCOTS  AT  CARLISLE       215 

the  Lord  Ochiltree  bare  him  company ;  and  therefore  he  began 
to  make  discourse  with  the  ladies,  who  were  there  sitting  in 
all  their  gorgeous  apparel ;  which  when  he  espied,  he  merrily 
said  :  "  Fair  Ladies,  how  pleasant  were  this  life  of  yours,  if  it 
should  ever  abide ;  and  then  in  the  end,  that  we  might  pass  to 
Heaven  with  this  gay  gear  [clothing]  !  But  fy  upon  that  knave 
Death,  that  will  come  whether  we  will  or  not ;  and  when  he 
hath  laid  on  his  arrest,  then  foul  worms  will  be  busy  with  this 
flesh,  be  it  never  so  fair  and  so  tender ;  and  the  silly  [weak] 
soul  I  fear  shall  be  so  feeble,  that  it  can  neither  carry  with 
it  gold,  garnishing,  targating  [tassels],  pearls,  nor  precious 
stones."  And  by  such  means  procured  he  the  company  of 
women,  and  so  passed  the  time  till  that  the  Laird  of  Dun 
willed  him  to  depart  to  his  house  till  new  advertisement. 

The  Queen  would  have  had  the  sentiment  of  the  Lords  of 
the  Articles  if  that  such  manner  of  speaking  deserved  not 
punishment.  But  she  was  counselled  to  desist ;  and  so  that 
storm  quieted  in  appearance,  but  never  in  the  heart. 

Number  jy 
MARY  QUEEN  OF  SCOTS  AT  CARLISLE 

Sir  Francis  Knollys.  Quoted  by  Thomas  Wright,  Queen  Elizabeth  and 
hi-r  Ti»ici,\o\.  I,  pp.  280-281. 
When  Mary  Queen  of  Scots  fled  to  England  in  1568,  she  tooi<  refuge 
in  Carlisle  Castle.  Sir  Francis  Knollys  was  one  of  the  men  appointed  by 
Elizabeth  to  take  charge  of  her.  The  extract  here  given  is  a  part  of  one 
of  his  reports  to  Cecil,  dated  June  1 1.  1568. 

And  yet  this  ladie  and  pr)mcess  is  a  notable  woman.  She 
semeth  to  regard  no  ceremonious  honor  besyde  the  ac- 
knowledging of  her  estate  regalle.  She  sheweth  a  disposition 
to  speake  much,  to  be  bold,  to  be  pleasant,  and  to  be  very 
famylyar.    She  sheweth  a  great  desyre  to  be  avenged  of  her 


2l6  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

enemyes ;  she  sheweth  a  readines  to  expose  herselfe  to  all 
perylls  in  hope  of  victorie  ;  she  delyteth  much  to  hear  of  har- 
dines  and  valiancye,  commending  by  name  all  approved  hardy 
men  of  her  cuntrye,  altho  they  be  her  enemyes  ;  and  she  com- 
mendeth  no  cowardnes  even  in  her  frendes.  The  thyng  that 
most  she  thirsteth  after  is  victory,  and  it  semeth  to  be  indiffer- 
ent to  her  to  have  her  enemies  dimynish,  either  by  the  sword 
of  her  frendes,  or  by  the  liberal!  promises  and  rewardes  of  her 
purse,  or  by  divysion  and  quarrells  raised  amongst  themselffes ; 
so  that  for  victorie's  sake,  payne  and  perr)-lls  semeth  pleasant 
unto  her,  and  in  respect  of  victorie,  welthe  and  all  thyngs 
semeth  to  her  contemptuous  and  vile.  Nowe  what  is  to  be 
done  with  such  a  ladie  and  pryncess,  or  whether  such  a 
pryncess  and  ladye  be  to  be  nouryshed  in  one's  bosome,  or 
whether  it  be  good  to  halte  and  dissemble  with  such  a  ladye, 
I  referr  to  your  judgment. 

Niunber  j8 

ELIZABETHAN  SEA  KINGS  AND  THE  SPANISH 

ARMADA 

John  Fiske.    Old  Virgitiia  and  Her  Neighbors,  Vol.  I,  pp.  38-47. 

.  .  .  War  between  Spain  and  England  had  been  declared 
in  July,  1585,  when  Sidney  and  Drake  were  about  ready  to 
execute  a  scheme  that  contemplated  the  founding  of  an 
American  colony  by  Sidney.  But  the  queen  interfered  and 
sent  Sidney  to  the  Netherlands,  where  he  was  so  soon  to 
die  a  noble  death.  The  terrible  Drake,  whom  Spaniards,  pun- 
ning upon  his  name,  had  begun  to  call  "Dragon,"  gave  them 
fresh  cause  to  dread  and  revile  him.  He  had  captured  20  ships 
with  250  cannon,  he  had  taken  and  sacked  Cartagena,  St. 
Domingo,  and  St.  Augustine,  and  on  his  way  home  looked 


THE  SPANISH  ARMADA  217 

in  at  Roanoke  Island,  in  time  to  take  Lane  ^  and  his  starving 
party  on  board  and  carry  them  back  to  England.  They  had 
not  long  been  gone  when  Grenville  arrived  with  supplies,  and 
was  astonished  at  finding  the  island  deserted.  Knowing  noth- 
ing of  Lane's  change  of  purpose,  and  believing  that  his  party 
must  still  be  somewhere  in  the  adjacent  country,  Grenville 
left  a  guard  of  fifteen  men  on  the  island,  with  ample  supplies, 
and  sailed  away. 

The  stirring  days  of  the  Armada  were  approaching.  When 
Lane  arrived  in  England,  his  services  were  needed  there,  and 
after  a  while  we  find  him  a  member  of  the  Council  of  War. 
One  of  this  first  American  colonizing  party  was  the  wonderful 
Suffolk  boy,  Thomas  Cavendish,  aged  two  and  twenty,  who 
had  no  sooner  landed  in  England  than  he  set  sail  in  command 
of  three  ships,  made  his  way  into  the  Pacific  Ocean,  and  re- 
peated the  exploits  of  Drake  from  Chili  to  California,  captured 
one  of  Spain's  finest  galleons,  and  then  in  two  years  more 
completed  the  circumnavigation  of  the  globe.  While  the 
pupil  was  thus  nobly  acquitting  himself,  the  master  in  the 
spring  of  1587  outdid  all  former  achievements.  Sailing  into 
the  harbour  of  Cadiz,  Drake  defeated  the  warships  on  guard 
there,  calmly  loaded  his  own  vessels  with  as  much  Spanish 
spoil  as  could  safely  be  carried,  then  set  fire  to  the  store  ships 
and  cut  their  cables.  More  than  a  hundred  transports,  some 
of  them  I  500  tons  in  burthen,  all  laden  with  stores  for  the 
Armada,  became  a  tangled  and  drifting  mass  of  blazing  ruin, 
while  amid  the  thunder  of  exploding  magazines  the  victor 
went  forth  on  his  way  unscathed  and  rejoicing.  Day  after  day 
he  crouched  under  the  beetling  crags  of  Cintra,  catching  and 
sinking  every  craft  that  passed  that  lair,  then  swept  like  a 
tempest  into  the  bay  of  Coruna  and  wrought  similar  havoc  to 

1  Ralph  Lane  with  a  hundred  or  more  men  had  been  sent  by  Raleigh  in  the 
spring  of  1585  to  make  the  beginnings  of  a  settlement  on  Roanoke  Island. 


2l8  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

that  of  Cadiz,  then  stood  off  for  the  Azores  and  captured  the 
great  carrack  on  its  way  from  the  Indies  with  treasure  reckoned 
by  milKons.  Europe  stood  dumb  with  amazement.  What 
manner  of  man  was  it  that  could  thus  "  singe  the  King  of 
Spain's  beard  "  ?  ""  PhiHp  one  day  invited  a  lady  of  the  court  to 
join  him  in  his  barge  on  the  Lake  of  Segovia.  The  lady  said 
she  dared  not  trust  herself  on  the  water,  even  with  his  Majesty," 
for  fear  of  Sir  Francis  Drake.  Philip's  Armada  had  to  wait 
for  another  year,  while  by  night  and  day  the  music  of  adze 
and  hammer  was  heard  in  English  shipyards. 

Just  as  '"  the  Dragon  "  returned  to  England  another  party 
of  Raleigh's  colonists  was  approaching  the  American  coast. 
There  were  about  150,  including  17  women.  John  White,  a 
man  deft  with  water-colours,  who  had  been  the  artist  of  Lane's 
expedition,  was  their  governor.  Their  settlement  was  to  be 
made  on  the  shore  of  Chesapeake  Bay,  but  first  they  must 
stop  at  Roanoke  Island  and  pick  up  the  fifteen  men  left  on 
watch  by  Grenville.  Through  some  carelessness  or  misunder- 
standing or  bad  faith  on  the  part  of  the  convoy,  the  people 
once  landed  were  left  in  the  lurch  with  only  one  small  vessel, 
and  thus  were  obliged  to  stay  on  that  fatal  Roanoke  Island. 
They  soon  found  that  Grenville's  little  guard  had  been 
massacred  by  red  men.  It  was  under  these  gloomy  circum- 
stances that  the  first  child  of  English  parents  was  born  on 
the  soil  of  the  United  States.  The  governor's  daughter 
Eleanor  was  wife  of  Ananias  Dare,  and  their  little  girl,  born 
August  18,  1587,  was  named  Virginia.  Before  she  was  ten 
days  old  her  grandfather  found  it  necessary  to  take  the  ship 
and  return  to  England  for  help. 

But  the  day  of  judgment  for  Spain  and  England  was  at 
hand,  and  lesser  things  must  wait.  Amid  the  turmoil  of  mili- 
tar}'  preparation,  Sir  Walter  was  not  unmindful  of  his  little 
colony.    Twice  he  fitted  out  relief  expeditions,  but  the-  first 


\ 


TIIK  SPAXISIT  ARMADA  219 

was  stopped  because  all  thr  ships  were  seized  for  government 
service,  and  the  second  was  driven  back  into  port  by  Spanish 
cruisers.  While  the  anxious  governor  waited  through  the 
lengthening  days  into  the  summer  of  1588,  there  came,  with 
its  imperious  haste,  its  deadly  agony  and  fury,  its  world- 
astounding  triumph,  the  event  most  tremendous,  perhaps, 
that  mankind  have  witnessed  since  the  star  of  the  Wise  Men 
stood  over  the  stable  at  Bethlehem.  Then  you  might  have 
seen  the  sea  kings  working  in  good  fellowship  together,  — 
Drake  and  Hawkins,  Winter  and  Frobisher,  with  Howard  of 
Effingham  in  the  Channel  fleet ;  Raleigh  and  Grenville  active 
alike  in  council  and  afield  ;  the  two  great  ministers,  Burghley 
and  W' alsingham,  ever  crafty  and  vigilant ;  and  in  the  back- 
ground on  her  white  palfrey  the  eccentric  figure  of  the 
strangely  wayward  and  wilful  but  always  brave  and  patriotic 
queen.  Even  after  three  centuries  it  is  with  bated  breath  ^ 
that  we  watch  those  1 30  black  hulks  coming  up  the  Channel, 
with  3000  cannon  and  30,000  men  on  board,  among  them 
ninety  executioners  withal,  equipped  with  racks  and  thumb- 
screws, to  inaugurate  on  English  soil  the  accursed  work  of 
the  Inquisition.  In  camp  at  Dunkirk  the  greatest  general  of 
the  age,  Alexander  Farnese,  with  3 5, 000  veterans  is  crouch- 
ing for  a  spring,  like  a  still  greater  general  at  Boulogne  in 
later  davs  ;  and  one  wonders  if  the  80,000  raw  militia  slowlv 
mustering  in  the  busy  little  towns  and  green  hamlets  of 
England  can  withstand  these  well-trained  warriors. 

In  the  English  fleet  there  were  about  as  many  ships  as  the 
enemy  had,  much  smaller  in  size  and  inferior  in  weight  of 
metal,  but  at  the  same  time  far  more  nimble  in  movement. 
Of  cannon  and  men  the  English  had  scarcely  half  as  many 
as  the  Spaniards,  but  this  disparity  was  more  than  offset  by 
one  great  advantage.  Our  forefathers  had  already  begun  to 
display  the  inventive  ingenuity  for  which  their  descendants  in 


2  20  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

/both  hemispheres  have  since  become  preeminent.  Many  of 
their  ships  were  armed  with  new  guns,  of  longer  range  than 
any  hitherto  known,  and  this  advantage,  combined  with  their 
greater  nimbleness,  made  it  possible  in  many  cases  to  pound 
a  Spanish  ship  to  pieces  without  receiving  any  serious  hurt 
in  return.  In  such  respects,  as  well  as  in  the  seamanship  by 
which  the  two  fleets  were  handled,  it  was  modern  intelligence 
pitted  against  mediaeval  chivalry.  Such  captains  as  served 
Elizabeth  were  not  reared  under  the  blighting  shadow  of  the 
Escurial.  With  the  discomfiture  of  the  Invincible  Armada  be- 
fore Dunkirk,  the  army  of  Farnese  at  once  became  useless  for 
invading  England.  Then  came  the  awful  discovery  that  the 
mighty  fleet  was  penned  up  in  the  German  Ocean,  for  Drake 
held  the  Strait  of  Dover  in  his  iron  grip.  The  horrors  of  the 
long  retreat  through  northern  seas  have  never  been  equalled 
save  when  Napoleon's  hosts  were  shattered  in  Russia.  In  the 
disparity  of  losses,  as  in  the  immensity  of  the  issues  at  stake, 
we  are  reminded  of  the  Greeks  and  Persians  at  Salamis ;  of 
Spaniards  more  than  20,000  perished,  but  scarcely  100  Eng- 
lishmen. The  frightful  loss  of  ships  and  guns  announced 
the  overthrow  of  Spanish  supremacy,  but  the  bitter  end  was 
yet  to  come.  During  the  next  three  years  the  activity  of  the 
sea  kings  reached  such  a  pitch  that  more  than  800  Spanish 
ships  were  destroyed.  The  final  blow  came  soon  after  the 
deaths  of  Drake  and  Hawkins  in  i  596,  when  Raleigh,  with 
the  Earl  of  Essex  and  Lord  Thomas  Howard,  destroyed  the 
Spanish  fleet  in  that  great  battle  before  Cadiz  whereof  Raleigh 
wrote  that  "  if  any  man  had  a  desire  to  see  Hell  itself,  it  was 
there  most  lively  figured." 
v^  It  was  not  until  March,  1591,  that  Governor  White  suc- 
ceeded in  getting  to  sea  again  for  the  rescue  of  his  family  and 
friends.  He  had  to  go  as  passenger  in  a  West  Indiaman. 
When  he  landed,  upon  the  return  voyage,  at  Roanoke  Island, 


TTTE  SPANISH  ARMADA  22  1 

it  was  just  in  time  to  have  celebrated  his  Httle  grandchild's 
fourth  birthday.  It  had  been  agreed  that  should  the  colonists 
leave  that  spot  they  should  carve  upon  a  tree  the  name  of  the 
place  to  which  they  were  going,  and  if  they  should  add  to  the 
name  a  cross  it  would  be  understood  as  a  signal  of  distress. 
\\' hen  White  arrived  he  found  grass  growing  in  the  deserted 
blockhouse.  Under  the  cedars  hard  by  five  chests  had  been 
buried,  and  somebody  had  afterwards  dug  them  up  and  rifled 
them.  Fragments  of  his  own  books  and  pictures  lay  scattered 
about.  On  a  great  tree  was  cut  in  big  letters,  but  without  any 
cross,  the  word  Croatan,  which  was  the  name  of  a  neighbour- 
ing island.  The  captain  of  the  ship  was  at  first  willing  to  take 
Whit^  to  Croatan,  but  a  fierce  storm  overtook  him,  and  after 
beating  about  for  some  days  he  insisted  upon  making  for 
England  in  spite  of  the  poor  man's  entreaties.  No  more  did 
White  ever  hear  of  his  loved  ones.  Sixteen  years  afterwards 
the  settlers  at  Jamestown  were  told  by  Indians  that  the  white 
people  abandoned  at  Roanoke  had  mingled  with  the  natives 
and  lived  with  them  for  some  years  on  amicable  terms,  until 
at  the  instigation  of  certain  medicine-men  (who  probably 
accused  them  of  witchcraft)  they  had  all  been  murdered, 
except  four  men,  two  boys,  and  a  young  woman,  who  were 
spared  by  request  or  order  of  a  chief.  Whether  this  young 
woman  was  Virginia  Dare,  the  first  American  girl,  we  have 
no  means  of  knowing. 

Nothing  could  better  illustrate  than  the  pathetic  fate  of  this 
little  colony  how  necessary  it  was  to  destroy  the  naval  power 
of  Spain  before  England  could  occupy  the  soil  of  North 
America.  The  defeat  of  the  Invincible  Armada  was  the  open- 
ing event  in  the  history  of  the  United  States.  It  was  the  event 
that  made  all  the  rest  possible.  Without  it  the  attempts  at 
Jamestown  and  Plymouth  could  hardly  have  had  more  success 
than  the  attempt  at  Roanoke  Island.    An  infant  colony  is  like 


O  O  '"> 


READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 


an  army  at  the  end  of  a  long  line  of  communications  ;  it  per- 
ishes if  the  line  is  cut.  Before  England  could  plant  thriving 
states  in  America  she  must  control  the  ocean  routes.  The  far- 
sighted  Raleigh  understood  the  conditions  of  the  problem. 
When  he  smote  the  Spaniards  at  Cadiz  he  knew  it  was  a  blow 
struck  for  America.  He  felt  the  full  significance  of  the  defeat 
of  the  Armada,  and  in  spite  of  all  his  disappointments  with 
Virginia  he  never  lost  heart.  In  1602  he  wrote  to  Sir  Robert 
Cecil,  "  I  shall  yet  live  to  see  it  an  English  nation." 

Number  jg 
ENGLISH    LIFE  IN    ELIZABETH'S   REIGN 

Mandell  Creighton.    The  Age  of  ElizahcUi,  pp.  199-20S. 

The  repulse  of  the  Spanish  Armada,  marks  the  period  in 
Elizabeth's  reign  when  the  national  spirit  rose  to  its  highest 
point.  England,  which  had  long  been  weighed  down  by 
doubts  and  fears,  awoke  to  a  consciousness  of  its  true  posi- 
tion. Internal  conflicts  and  differences  of  opinion  ceased  to 
be  of  importance  in  face  of  the  great  danger  which  threat- 
ened all  alike.  Englishmen  felt,  as  they  had  never  done  be- 
fore, their  community  of  interests,  their  real  national  unity. 
Hatred  of  Spain  became  a  deep  feeling  in  the  English  mind, 
and  when  combined  with  religious  zeal  and  the  desire  for 
adventure  produced  that  spirit  of  restless  and  reckless  daring 
which  so  strongly  marks  the  English  character  at  this  time. 
Nowhere  is  the  outcome  of  awakened  national  feeling  more 
finely  expressed  than  in  the  lines  which  Shakespeare  puts 
into  the  mouth  of  the  dying  Gaunt : 

This  royal  throne  of  kings,  this  sceptred  isle, 
This  earth  of  majesty,  this  seat  of  Mars. 
This  other  Eden,  demi-paradise : 


ENGLISH  LIFE  IN  ELIZABETH'S  REIGN        223 

This  fastness  built  by  Nature  for  herself 
Against  infection,  and  the  hand  of  war; 
This  happy  breed  of  men,  this  Httle  world : 
This  precious  stone,  set  in  the  silver  sea, 
Which  serves  it  in  the  office  of  a  wall 
Or  as  a  moat  defensive  to  a  house. 
Against  the  envy  of  less  happier  lands. 

Moreover  England  under  Elizabeth's  careful  rule  had 
rapidly  increased  in  wealth  and  prosperity.  It  was  free  from 
war  when  all  the  rest  of  luirope  was  engaged  in  deadly 
struggle.  The  queen  was  thrifty  and  provident,  so  that  in- 
dustry was  not  crippled  b)-  heavy  taxes.  The  troubles  in  the 
Netherlands  threw  great  commercial  advantages  into  the 
hands  of  the  English  which  they  were  not  slow  in  using. 
Increasing  national  prosperity  went  together  with  increasing 
national  spirit,  and  England  made  rapid  strides  during  the 
eventful  forty-five  years  of  Elizabeth's  reign.  One  way  in 
which  this  showed  itself  was  in  the  great  advance  of  litera- 
ture. Men's  tongues  seemed  to  be  loosened  ;  they  felt  and 
expressed  interests  of  every  kind.  No  longer  were  some 
things  only  of  importance,  but  all  things  that  concerned  man 
and  his  life  and  feelings  were  felt  to  be  worthy  of  record. 
Hence  it  is  that  we  know  so  much  more  of  Elizabeth's  times 
than  we  do  of  those  that  went  before,  and  that  we  have  ma- 
terials for  a  sketch  of  the  social  life  and  manners  of  the  people. 

The  increase  of  wealth  produced  a  greater  desire  for  com- 
fort, and  Elizabeth's  reign  was  marked  by  a  great  progress  in 
all  the  refinements  and  appliances  of  daily  life.  Amongst  the 
nobles  the  sense  of  peace  and  security,  joined  with  the  desire 
for  greater  grandeur,  led  to  a  change  in  the  character  of  their 
residences.  The  fortified  castle  was  re-modelled  into  a  palace, 
though  still  retaining  its  old  appearance.  This  was  the  case 
with  Kenilworth  Castle,  inside  whose  frowning  battlements 
was  a  magnificent  palace  with  every  requirement  of  luxur\-. 


2  24  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

New  mansions  were  also  erected  all  over  England  by  the 
gentry  who  wished  to  live  in  a  manner  suitable  to  their  dig- 
nitv.  No  age  has  left  a  more  decided  mark  on  oiir  domestic 
architecture  than  the  age  of  the  Tudors.  The  Gothic  Archi- 
tecture of  the  middle  ages  had  given  way  before  the  revival 
of  the  classical  style  which  spread  from  Italy.  The  mixture 
of  Gothic  and  classical  architecture  produced  the  stately  yet 
simple  Elizabethan  mansions  of  which  such  admirable  ex- 
amples remain  in  Hatfield,  Longleat,  Audley  End,  Holland 
House,  and  Knowle.  Country  houses  generally  were  built  of 
brick  or  stone  instead  of  wood  ;  glass  took  the  place  of  lat- 
tices. "Of  old  time,"  says  Harrison  in  his  Description  of 
England,  "  our  countrie  houses  instead  of  glass  did  use  much 
lattise,  and  that  made  either  of  wicker  or  fine  rifts  of  oke  in 
checkerwise.  But  now  our  lattises  are  also  growne  into  lesse 
use,  because  glass  is  come  to  be  so  plentifulle,  and  within  a 
verie  little  so  good  cheape  if  not  better  than  the  other.  The 
wals  of  our  houses  on  the  inner  side  be  either  hanged  with 
tapistrie,  arras  worke,  or  painted  cloths,  wherein  either  diverse 
histories,  or  herbes,  beasts,  and  such  like  are  stained,  or  else 
they  are  seeled  with  oke  of  our  own  or  wainscot  brought 
hither  out  of  the  east  countries.  As  for  stooves  we  had  not 
hitherto  used  them  greatlie,  yet  do  they  now  begin  to  be  made 
in  diverse  houses  of  the  gentrie."  When  the  Spaniards  in 
Queen  Mary's  days  saw  the  English  houses,  they  said, 
'"  These  English  have  houses  made  of  sticks  and  dirt,  but 
they  fare  commonly  as  well  as  the  king."  This  reproach 
was  no  longer  true  in  Elizabeth's  time. 

The  luxury  of  comfort  also  made  rapid  progress.  "  There 
are  old  men,"  says  Harrison,  "yet  dwelling  in  the  village 
where  I  remaine,  which  have  noticed  three  things  to  be 
marvellouslie  altered  in  England  in  this  their  remembrance. 
One  is  the  multitude  of  chimnies  latelie  erected,  whereas  in 


ENGTJSir   TJFE  IN   KLTZABKTII'S   REIGN        225 

their  young  daies  there  were  not  above  two  or  three  if  so 
manic,  in  uplandish  towns  of  the  realme.  Another  is  the 
great  amendment  of  lodging,  for  our  fathers  have  Hen  full  oft 
upon  straw  pallets,  and  a  good  round  log  under  their  heads 
instead  of  a  bolster  or  pillow.  The  third  thing  they  tell  of,  is 
the  exchange  of  vessels  as  of  treene  (wooden)  platters  into 
pewter,  and  wooden  spooncs  into  silver  or  tin.  Such  also  was 
their  povertie,  that  if  some  one  od  farmer  or  husbandman 
had  been  at  the  alehouse  among  six  or  seven  of  his  neigh- 
bours, and  there  in  braverie  to  show  what  store  he  had,  did 
cast  down  his  purse,  and  therein  six  shillings  of  silver,  it  was 
very  likelie  that  all  the  rest  could  not  laie  down  so  much 
against  it ;  whereas  in  my  time  the  farmer  will  thinkie  his 
gaines  verie  small  towards  the  end  of  his  terme,  if  he  have 
not  six  or  seven  years  rent  lieing  by  him,  beside  a  fair  garnish 
of  pewter  on  his  cupboard,  with  so  much  more  in  od  vessels 
going  about  the  house,  three  or  foure  feather  beds,  so  manie 
coverlids  and  carpets  of  tapestrie,  a  silver  salt,  a  bowle  for 
wine,  and  a  dozzen  spoons  to  furnish  up  the  sute," 

The  rich  furniture  and  decorations  of  the  rooms  in  noble- 
men's houses  is  described  by  Shakespeare  in  Cyinbeline : 

Her  bedchamber  was  hanged 
With  tapestry  of  silk  and  silver !   the  story 
Proud  Cleopatra,  when  she  met  her  Roman, 
And  Cydnus  swelled  above  the  banks,  or  for 
The  press  of  boats,  or  pride  ;  a  piece  of  work 
So  bravely  done,  so  rich  that  it  did  strive 
In  workmanship  and  value.    The  chimney 
Is  south  the  chamber ;  and  the  chimney-piece 
Chaste  Dian  bathing.    The  roof  of  the  chamber 
With  golden  cherubims  is  fretted  ;  her  andirons 
(I  had  forgot  them)  were  two  winking  Cupids 
Of  silver,  each  on  one  foot  standing,  nicely 
Depending  on  their  brands. 


2  26  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH   HISTORY 

Carpets  were  not  yet  much  known  or  used,  and  the  floors 
were  strewed  with  rushes  ;  thus  Romeo  says  : 

Let  wantons  light  of  heart 
Tickle  the  senseless  rushes  with  their  heels. 

In  food,  and  in  the  exercise  of  hospitahty,  the  English 
were  profuse.  The  usual  fare  of  a  gentleman,  says  Harrison, 
'"  was  four,  five,  or  six  dishes  when  they  have  but  small  re- 
sort." There  were  many  kinds  of  meat,  and  "for  a  man  to 
taste  of  every  dish  that  standeth  before  him  is  rather  to  yield 
unto  a  conspiracy  with  a  great  deal  of  meat  for  the  speedy 
suppression  of  natural  health,  than  the  natural  use  of  a 
necessary  means  to  satisfy  himself  with  a  competent  repast 
to  sustain  his  body  withal."  The  great  men  dined  in  state 
at  a  high  table  in  their  hall,  while  their  dependants  sat  at 
lower  tables  ;  the  remnants  of  their  dinner  were  given  to  the 
poor.  Venetian  glass,  which  was  a  rarity,  was  the  favorite 
substance  of  their  drinking  vessels.  Fifty-six  sorts  of  French 
wines  were  imported  into  England,  and  thirty  kinds  of  Italian, 
Greek,  Spanish,  and  Canary  wines.  Drunkenness  was  then, 
as  always,  a  characteristic  feature  of  the  English  people. 
China  dishes  and  plates  were  beginning  to  be  known.  Knives 
for  eating  purposes  only  began  commonly  to  take  the  place 
of  fingers  in  1563,  and  forks  were  not  used  before  161 1. 
The  times  for  meals  were  strangely  different  from  our  present 
custom  ;  the  gentry  dined  at  eleven  and  supped  at  five,  the 
farmers  dined  at  one  and  supped  at  seven. 

Dress  was  remarkable  in  this  age  for  its  splendor  and  mag- 
nificence ;  the  vanity  of  the  queen  set  an  example  of  profusion 
which  was  almost  universally  followed,  and  which  excited  the 
anger  of  many  Puritan  satirists.  Even  then  the  English  had 
no  distinctive  dress  of  their  own,  but  followed  foreign  fashions 
without  much  taste.    Every  kind  of  dress  was  in  vogue,  and 


ENGLISH  IJFE  IN  ETJZARETH'S  REIGN        227 

on  great  occasions  there  was  a  strange  mixture  of  costumes. 
French,  German,  and  Spanish  dresses  varied  with  "  Moor- 
ish gowns  and  barbarian  sleeves."  Different  patterns  were 
adopted  for  dressing  the  hair  and  trimming  the  beard.  Some 
men  wore  earrings,  "whereby  they  imagine  the  workman- 
ship of  God  to  be  not  a  Httle  amended."  Ruffs  made  of  lawn 
or  cambric  were  worn  by  both  sexes  ;  they  were  stiffened 
with  starch  and  wire,  and  were  edged  with  gems.  Queen 
Elizabeth  left  at  her  death  a  wardrobe  of  three  thousand 
gowns,  made  of  the  richest  materials ;  they  were  of  enormous 
bulk,  and  were  stuffed  and  padded  so  as  to  stand  off  from  the 
body.  Gentlemen's  breeches  and  doublets  were  similarly 
padded  to  an  uncomfortable  size  ;  over  these  they  wore 
cloaks  "  of  silk,  velvet,  damask,  or  other  precious  stuff," 
embroidered  with  gold  or  silver  and  buttoned  at  the  shoulder. 
It  was  not  uncommon  for  a  courtier  to  "  put  on  a  thousand 
oaks  and  an  hundred  oxen  into  a  suit  of  apparel,  to  wear  a 
whole  manor  on  his  back." 

The  title  of  "  merrie  England  "  was  not  a  meaningless 
one  in  Elizabeth's  time.  Nothing  can  give  a  stronger  testi- 
mony to  the  strength  of  the  wave  of  Puritan  feeling  which 
swept  over  England  in  the  next  century  than  to  see  how 
entirely  it  destroyed  the  many  games  and  festivities  which  be- 
fore were  common  throughout  the  land,  and  so  stamped  upon 
English  life  the  somewhat  hard  and  joyless  aspect  which  it 
still  wears.  In  the  country  the  festivities  of  Christmas,  New 
Year's  Day,  Twelfth  Night,  Plough  Monday,  Candlemas, 
Shrove  Tuesday,  Easter,  May  Day,  and  many  others,  were 
all  celebrated  with  curious  pageants  and  old  traditional  cus- 
toms of  merry-making.  Each  district  had  some  historic 
festival  which  it  commemorated  by  some  rude  pageant.  The 
Morris  dancers.  Maid  Marian  and  Little  John,  the  show  of 
the  Hobbyhorse  and  the  Dragon,  and  other  performances 


2  28  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

of  that  kind,  awoke  the  anger  of  the  Puritans,  who  saw  in 
them  remnants  of  paganism  and  superstition,  Sundays  were 
the  holidays  of  the  week,  when  every  village  had  its  games 
and  social  recreations.  Wakes,  fairs,  and  weddings  were  all 
occasions  of  sports  and  jollity. 

Dancing,  archery,  and  bear-baiting  were  favorite  amuse- 
ments in  the  capital.  There  the  fashionable  promenade  was 
the  middle  aisle  of  St.  Paul's  cathedral,  where  the  young  man 
of  fashion  would  order  his  tailor  to  meet  him  with  patterns  ; 
for  the  dark  little  shops  were  ill-suited  for  the  display  of 
goods.  There  by  his  remarks  in  public  the  dandy  could  get 
credit  for  his  taste  from  passers  by  before  he  appeared  in  his 
new  suit  at  all.  Before  dinner  he  walked  in  one  dress,  after 
dinner  he  returned  in  another.  If  he  wished  to  attract  espe- 
cial attention  he  mounted  the  steps  of  the  quire  while  service 
was  going  on.  That  was  forbidden,  and  one  of  the  quire  boys 
at  once  left  his  place  to  exact  a  fine  ;  then  could  the  dandy 
amaze  the  congregation  by  the  splendor  of  his  "  perfumed 
embroidered  purse,"  from  which  in  a  lordly  way  he  would 
"  quoit  into  the  boy's  hands  that  it  was  heard  above  the  first 
lesson,  although  it  were  read  in  a  voice  as  big  as  one  of  the 
great  organs."  After  this  edifying  display  he  would  look  in- 
to the  bookseller's  if  he  were  of  a  literary  turn  of  mind  ;  if 
not,  he  would  visit  the  tobacconist's  ;  for  tobacco,  which  was 
first  brought  to  England  by  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  in  1586, 
had  already  become  popular. 

As  an  amusement  for  the  evening  was  the  theatre,  which 
first  sprang  into  popularity  during  Elizabeth's  reign.  The 
stirring,  bustling  time  awoke  an  interest  in  the  display  of  the 
activity  and  power  of  human  life.  The  spirit  of  adventure 
felt  a  desire  for  satisfaction  in  the  contemplation  of  the 
struggles  of  men  against  destiny,  of  the  soul  against  its  sur- 
roundings.   The  bands  of  players   kept  by  the  queen  and 


ENGLISH  LIFE  IN  ELIZAI5ETH'S  RFLIGN        229 

noblemen  for  the  performance  of  masques  and  pageants  at 
their  own  festivities  began  to  give  pubHc  performances.  The 
people  needed  something  to  supply  the  old  Miracle  Plays 
which  the  Reformation  had  stopped.  Public  theatres  quickly 
increased  in  number.  At  first  they  were  rude  enough,  and 
were  in  shape  reproductions  of  the  court-yard  of  an  inn, 
which  first  had  been  the  place  for  dramatic  representations. 
The  "  groundlings  "  of  the  pit  stood  unprotected  from  the 
weather ;  the  boxes  and  the  stage  only  were  covered.  The 
stage  was  divided  into  two  parts  by  a  balcony,  and  thus  a 
simple  kind  of  scenery  was  secured.  At  first  plays  were  only 
allowed  on  Sunday  evening,  but  soon  the  players  "'  made  four 
or  five  Sundays  eveiy  week."  A  penny  or  two-pence  ad- 
mitted to  the  pit  and  gallery  ;  a  shilling  to  the  more  privi- 
leged part  of  the  house.  There  were  no  women  actors,  and 
female  parts  were  always  performed  by  boys ;  but  the  spec- 
tators needed  few  external  helps  to  give  the  words  a  mean- 
ing, and  rouse  their  interest  in  the  problem  of  human  life 
and  passion  which  the  drama  brought  before  them. 

As  regards  the  ordinary  occupations  of  the  English,  com- 
merce and  naval  enterprise  greatly  increased  the  number  of 
those  who  could  find  industrial  employment.  As  a  conse- 
quence of  this  the  distress  amongst  the  poor  population  in 
the  country  slowly  diminished.  The  "  sturdy  beggars,"  who, 
during  the  last  three  reigns  had  infested  the  country-  almost 
like  banditti,  were  more  easily  put  down  in  quieter  times. 
The  first  step  towards  dealing  with  them  fairly  was  to  make 
provision  for  those  who  were  really  sick  and  destitute.  A 
weekly  collection  was  made  in  all  parish  churches  for  the 
benefit  of  the  poor  of  the  parish.  When  this  was  insufficient 
the  justices  were  empowered  to  make  an  assessment  for  the 
purpose.  Work-houses  and  hospitals  began  gradually  to  be 
built.    Finally  the  system  of  parish  relief  for  the  poor  was 


2:;o  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 


3 


established  on  the  present  basis  by  a  statute  passed  in  1601, 
which  enacted  that  houses  of  correction  be  erected  in  every 
county,  and  provided  for  the  maintenance  of  the  poor  by 
means  of  a  rate,  which  was  to  be  collected  and  distributed 
by  overseers  of  the  poor.  In  this  way  poverty  was  provided 
for,  and  the  number  of  vagrants  began  slowly  to  decrease. 
But  severity  was  still  used  against  them,  and  not  less  than 
300  of  these  disturbers  of  the  peace  were  hanged  yearly.  It 
is  computed  that  there  were  no  fewer  than  10,000  of  these 
vagabonds  in  England,  engaged  sometimes  in  begging,  with 
many  devices  to  excite  compassion,  sometimes  thieving,  some- 
times infesting  the  roads  in  bands,  and  using  violence  to  the 
passers  by.  The  number  diminished  but  slowly,  as  it  was  not 
easy  for  them  to  get  employment.  There  was  no  great  in- 
crease in  the  demand  for  agricultural  laborers,  and  in  the 
towns  trade  was  rigidly  regarded  by  the  guilds.  No  man 
could  practice  a  craft  who  was  not  a  member  of  a  guild,  and 
had  not  served  a  regular  apprenticeship.  The  apprentices 
were  a  powerful  body  in  London  ;  they  were  always  ready  to 
interfere  in  a  disturbance,  and  the  cry  of  "  Clubs  !  "  would 
bring  forth  a  small  army  of  them,  ready  to  take  part  in  any 
riot  that  arose. 

The  occupations   for   aspiring   gentlemen    are    noted    by 
Shakespeare  :  — 

Men  of  slender  reputation 
Put  forth  their  sons  to  seek  preferment  out : 
Some  to  the  wars  to  try  their  fortunes  there : 
Some  to  discover  islands  far  away ; 
Some  to  the  studious  universities. 

To  these  we  must  add  the  difficult  and  perilous  road  to  for- 
tune by  seeking  court  favor.  Those  whose  position  did  not 
give  them  this  opportunity,  or  who  chafed  under  its  restric- 
tions, could  find  employment  in  the  Netherlands,  in  France, 


'I'HF.  CHAKACTKR  Ol'  JAMi:S   I  23 1 

or  in  naval  expeditions  against  Spain.  Others  could  go  on 
voyages  of  discovery  either  in  the  Arctic  regions  or  in  the 
Indian  seas.  Those  who  preferred  more  studious  pursuits 
studied  in  Paris,  in  Germany,  or  in  Italy.  Ital\-  especially 
still  exercised  a  powerful  influence,  over  which  the  English 
moralists  bewail.  "  There  be  the  enchantments  of  Circe," 
says  Roger  Ascham,  "  brought  out  of  Italy  to  mar  men's 
manners  in  England,  much  by  example  of  ill  life,  but  more 
by  precepts  of  fond  books." 


Number  ^o 
THE  CHARACTER  OF  JAMES   I 

J.  R.  Green.    ./  Short  Hision>  of  the  Ejiglish  People,  illustrated  edition, 
Vol.  Ill,  pp.  974-976- 

No  sovereign  could  have  jarred  against  the  conception  of 
an  English  ruler  which  had  grown  up  under  Plantagenet  or 
Tudor  more  utterly  than  James  the  First.  His  big  head,  his 
slobbering  tongue,  his  quilted  clothes,  his  rickety  legs,  stood 
out  in  as  grotesque  a  contrast  with  all  that  men  recalled  of 
Henry  or  Elizabeth  as  his  gabble  and  rhodomontade,  his  want 
of  personal  dignity,  his  buffoonery,  his  coarseness  of  speech, 
his  pedantry,  his  contemptible  cowardice.  Under  this  ridicu- 
lous exterior  however  lay  a  man  of  much  natural  ability,  a  ripe 
scholar  with  a  considerable  fund  of  shrewdness,  of  mother- 
wit,  and  ready  repartee.  His  canny  humour  lights  up  the 
political  and  theological  controversies  of  the  time  with  quaint 
incisive  phrases,  with  puns  and  epigrams  and  touches  of  irony, 
which  still  retain  their  savour.  His  reading,  especially  in  theo- 
logical matters,  was  extensive ;  and  he  was  a  voluminous  author 
on   subjects  which   ranged   from   predestination   to   tobacco. 


2  12  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

But  his  shrewdness  and  learning  only  left  him,  in  the  phrase 
of  Henry  the  Fourth,  "  the  wisest  fool  in  Christendom." 
He  had  the  temper  of  a  pedant,  a  pedant's  conceit,  a  pedant's 
love  of  theories,  and  a  pedant's  inability  to  bring  his  theories 
into  any  relation  with  actual  facts.  All  might  have  gone  well 
had  he  confined  himself  to  speculations  about  witchcraft,  about 
predestination,  about  the  noxiousness  of  smoking.  Unhappily 
for  England  and  for  his  successor,  he  clung  yet  more  pas- 
sionately to  theories  of  government  which  contained  within 
them  the  seeds  of  a  death-struggle  between  his  people  and 
the  Crown.  Even  before  his  accession  to  the  English  throne, 
he  had  formulated  his  theory  of  rule  in  a  work  on  "  The 
True  Law  of  Free  Monarchy ;  "  and  announced  that,  "  al- 
though a  good  King  will  frame  his  actions  to  be  according 
to  law,  yet  he  is  not  bound  thereto,  but  of  his  own  will  and 
for  example-giving  to  his  subjects."  With  the  Tudor  states- 
men who  used  the  phrase,  "an  absolute  King,"  or  "an 
absolute  monarchy,"  meant  a  sovereign  or  rule  complete  in 
themselves,  and  independent  of  all  foreign  or  Papal  interfer- 
ence. James  chose  to  regard  the  words  as  implying  the 
monarch's  freedom  from  all  control  by  law,  or  from  respon- 
sibility to  anything  but  his  own  royal  will.  The  King's  theory 
however  was  made  a  system  of  government ;  it  was  soon, 
as  the  Divine  Right  of  Kings,  to  become  a  doctrine  which 
bishops  preached  from  the  pulpit,  and  for  which  brave  men 
laid  their  heads  on  the  block. 


THE  DIVINE  RKHIT  OF  KINGS  233 

Ntunber  41 
THE  DIVINE   RIGHT  OF   KINGS 

Jamks  I,  KiNC  OF  England.    IVorkes  of  the  Most  High  and  Mightie  Prince, 
James,  pp.  529-531. 
This  is  part  of  a  speech  made  by  James  I  to  the  Lords  and  Commons 
of  the  ParHament  at  Whitehall  in  1609. 

The  State  of  M  on  archie  is  the  supremest  thing  upon 
earth  :  for  Kings  are  not  only  God's  Lieutenants  upon  earth, 
and  sit  upon  God's  throne,  but  even  by  God  himselfc  they 
are  called  Gods.  There  bee  three  principall  similitudes  that 
illustrate  the  State  of  Monarchie  :  One  taken  out  of  the 
word  of  God  ;  and  the  two  other  out  of  the  grounds  of  Policie 
and  Philosophie.  In  the  Scriptures  Kings  are  called  Gods, 
and  so  their  power  after  a  certaine  relation  compared  to  the 
Divine  power.  Kings  are  also  compared  to  Fathers  of  fami- 
lies :  for  a  King  is  trewly  Parens  patrice,  the  politique  father 
of  his  people.  And  lastly,  Kings  are  compared  to  the  head 
of  this  Microcosme  of  the  body  of  man. 

Kings  are  justly  called  Gods,  for  that  they  exercise  a  man- 
ner or  resemblance  of  Divine  power  upon  earth  :  For  if  you 
wil  consider  the  Attributes  to  God,  you  shall  see  how  they 
agree  in  the  person  of  a  King.  God  hath  power  to  create,  or 
destroy,  make,  or  unmake  at  his  pleasure,  to  give  life  or  send 
death,  to  judge  all,  and  to  bee  judged  nor  accomptable  to 
none  :  To  raise  low  things,  and  to  make  high  things  low  at 
his  pleasure,  and  to  God  are  both  soule  and  body  due.  And 
the  like  power  have  Kings :  they  make  and  unmake  their 
subjects  ;  they  have  power  of  raising,  and  casting  downe  : 
of  life,  and  of  death  :  Judges  over  all  their  subjects,  and  in 
all  causes,  and  yet  accomptable  to  none  but  God  onely.  They 
have  power  to  exalt  low  things,  and  abase  high  things,  and 


234 


READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 


make  of  their  subjects  like  men  at  the  Chesse  ;  A  pawne  to 
take  a  Bishop  or  a  Knight,  and  to  cry  up,  or  downe,  any  of 
their  subjects,  as  they  do  their  money.  And  to  the  King  is 
due  both  the  affection  of  the  soule,  and  the  service  of  the 
body  of  his  subjects  :   .   .   . 

I  conclude  then  this  point  touching  the  power  of  Kings, 
with  this  Axiome  of  Divinitie,  That  as  to  dispute  what  God 
may  doe,  is  Blasphemie  ;  ...  So  is  it  sedition  in  Subjects, 
to  dispute  what  a  King  may  do  in  the  height  of  his  power ; 
But  just  Kings  wil  ever  be  willing  to  declare  what  they  wil  do, 
if  they  wil  not  incurre  the  curse  of  God.  I  wil  not  be  content 
that  my  power  be  disputed  upon  :  but  I  shall  ever  be  willing 
to  make  the  reason  appeare  of  all  my  doings,  and  rule  my 
actions  according  to  my  Lawes. 

Nimtber  ^2 
OF  PLIMOTH    PLANTATION 

William  Bradford,     of  Plitnoth  Plantation,  pp.  x--^^, passim. 

The  annals  of  the  Plymouth  Colony  were  written  by  William  Bradford, 
the  second  governor  of  the  colony.  This  extract  is  taken  from  the  edition 
printed  from  the  original  manuscript  under  the  direction  of  the  Secretary 
of  the  Commonwealth  of  Massachusetts,  by  order  of  the  General  Court. 

And  first  of  y^  occasion  and  indusments  ther  unto  ;  the 
which  that  I  may  truly  unfould,  I  must  begine  at  y®  very  roote 
&  rise  of  y^  same.  The  which  I  shall  endevor  to  manefest  in 
a  plaine  stile,  with  singuler  regard  unto  y^  simple  trueth  in  all 
things,  at  least  as  near  as  my  slender  judgmente  can  attaine 
the  same. 

1.  Chapter. 

It  is  well  knowne  unto  y^  godly  and  judicious,  how  ever  since 
y«^  first  breaking  out  of  y^  lighte  of  y^  gospell  in  our  Honour- 
able Nation  of  England,    .   .   .  what  warrs  &  opposissions 


OFPLIMollI    PLANTATION  235 

ever  since,  Satan  hath  raised,  mantained,  and  continued 
against  the  Saincts,  from  time  to  time,  in  one  sorte  or  other. 
Some  times  by  bloody  death  and  cruell  torments ;  other 
whiles  imprisonments,  banishments,  &  other  hard  usages  ; 
as  being  loath  his  kingdom  should  goe  downe,  the  trueth  pre- 
vaile,  and  y^  churches  of  God  reverte  to  their  anciente  puritie, 
and  recover  their  primative  order,  libertie,  &  bewtie.   .   ,   . 

The  one  side  laboured  to  have  y«  right  worship  of  God  & 
discipline  of  Christ  established  in  y^  church,  according  to  y^ 
simplicitie  of  y^  gospell,  without  the  mixture  of  mens  inven- 
tions, and  to  have  &  to  be  ruled  by  y^  laws  of  Gods  word,  dis- 
pensed in  those  offices,  &  by  those  officers  of  Pastors,  Teachers, 
&  Elders,  &c.  according  to  y^  Scripturs.  The  other  partie, 
though  under  many  colours  &  pretences,  endevored  to  have  y^ 
episcopall  dignitie  (affter  y^  popish  maner)  with  their  large 
power  &  jurisdiction  still  retiiined;  with  all  those  courts,  can- 
nons, &  ceremonies,  togeather  with  all  such  livings,  revenues, 
&  subordinate  officers,  with  other  such  means  as  formerly  up- 
held their  antichristian  greatnes,  and  enabled  them  with  lordly 
&  tyranous  power  to  persecute  y®  poore  servants  of  God.  .  .  . 

...  Of  which  a  famous  author  thus  writeth  in  his  Dutch 
coiiitaries.  At  y*^  coming  of  king  James  into  England ;  TJie 
iiciv  king  (saith  he)  found  their  established  y^  7'efonned  re- 
ligion, according  to  y^  reformed  religion  of  king  Edxvard  y*^  6. 
Retaining,  or  keeping  still  y'^  spirituall  state  of  y^  Bishops, 
&c.  after  y'^  onld  maner,  mnch  varying  &  differing  from  y^ 
reformed  ehnrehes  in  Scotland,  Fi'ance,  &  y-'  NeatJiei'lands, 
Embden,  Geneva,  &e.  zvJiose.  reformation  is  cut,  or  shapen 
mucJi  nerer  y^  first  Christian  chiifxhes,  as  it  was  used  in  y^ 
Apostles  times. 

[6]  So  many  therfore  of  these  proffessors  as  saw  ye  evill 
of  these  things,  in  thes  parts,  and  whose  harts  y*^  Lord  had 
touched  w*'^  heavenly  zeale  for  his  trueth,   they  shooke  of 


236  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

this  yoake  of  antichristian  bondage,  and  as  y^  Lords  free 
people,  joyned  them  selves  (by  a  covenant  of  the  Lord)  into 
a  church  estate,  in  y'^  felowship  of  y^  gospell,  to  walke  in 
all  his  vvayes,  made  known,  or  to  be  made  known  unto  them, 
according  to  their  best  endeavours,  whatsoever  it  should  cost 
them,  the  Lord  assisting  them.  And  that  it  cost  them  some- 
thing this  ensewing  historic  will  declare.  .   .   . 

But  after  these  things  they  could  not  long  continue  in 
any  peaceable  condition,  but  were  hunted  &  persecuted  on 
every  side,  so  as  their  former  afflictions  were  but  as  flea- 
bitings  in  comparison  of  these  which  now  came  upon  them. 
For  some  were  taken  &  clapt  up  in  prison,  others  had  their 
houses  besett  &  watcht  night  and  day,  &  hardly  escaped 
their  hands ;  and  y*^  most  were  faine  to  flie  &  leave  their 
howses  &  habitations,  and  the  means  of  their  livelehood. 
Yet  these  &  many  other  sharper  things  which  affterward  be- 
fell them,  were  no  other  then  they  looked  for,  and  therfore 
were  y*^  better  prepared  to  bear  them  by  y^  assistance  of 
Gods  grace  &  spirite.  Yet  seeing  them  selves  thus  molested, 
[7]  and  that  ther  was  no  hope  of  their  continuance  ther,  by 
a  joynte  consente  they  resolved  to  goe  into  y^  Low-Countries, 
wher  they  heard  was  freedome  of  Religion  for  all  men  ;  as 
also  how  sundrie  from  London,  &  other  parts  of  y^  land,  had 
been  exiled  and  persecuted  for  y^  same  cause,  &  were  gone 
thither,  and  lived  at  Amsterdam,  &  in  other  places  of  y^ 
land.  So  affter  they  had  continued  togeither  aboute  a  year, 
and  kept  their  meetings  every  Saboth  in  one  place  or  other, 
exercising  the  worship  of  God  amongst  them  selves,  notwith- 
standing all  y*^  dilligence  &  malice  of  their  adverssaries,  they 
seeing  they  could  no  longer  continue  in  y*^  condition,  they  re- 
solved to  get  over  into  Hollad  as  they  could  ;  which  was  in  y^ 
year  1607.  &  1608, ;  of  which  more  at  large  in  y*^  next  chap. 


OF  ]•LI^r()^^  i't.antation  237 

2.  Chap. 

Of  their  departure  into  Holland  and  their  troiibls  ther  aboiife,  with 
some  of  y'  many  difficulties  they  found  and  mete  -wit hall. 

Kxe.  1608. 

Being  thus  constrained  to  leave  their  native  soyle  and  coun- 
trie,  their  lands  &  livings,  and  all  their  freinds  &  famillier 
acquaintance,  it  was  much,  and  thought  mar\-elous  by  many, 
But  to  goe  into  a  countrie  they  knew  not  (but  by  hearsay), 
wher  they  must  learne  a  new  language,  and  get  their  livings 
they  knew  not  how,  it  being  a  dear  place,  &  subjecte  to  y« 
misseries  of  warr,  it  was  by  man\'  thought  an  adventure 
almost  desperate,  a  case  intolerable,  &  a  misserie  worse  than 
death.  Espetially  seeing  they  were  not  aquainted  with  trads 
nor  traffique,  (by  which  y'  countrie  doth  subsiste,)  but  had 
only  been  used  to  a  plaine  countrie  life,  &  y^  inocente  trade  of 
husbandrey.  But  these  things  did  not  dismay  them  (though 
they  did  some  times  trouble  them)  for  their  desires  were  sett 
on  ye  ways  of  God,  &  to  injoye  his  ordinances  ;  but  they 
rested  on  his  providence,  &  knew  whom  they  had  beleeved. 
Yet  [8]  this  v/as  not  all,  for  though  they  could  not  stay,  yet 
were  y^  not  suffered  to  goe,  but  y^  ports  &  havens  were  shut 
against  them,  so  as  they  were  faine  to  seeke  secrete  means 
of  conveance,  &  to  bribe  &  fee  y^  mariners,  &  give  exter- 
ordinarie  rates  for  their  passages.  And  yet  were  they  often 
times  betrayed  (many  of  them),  and  both  they  &  their  goods 
intercepted  &  surprised,  and  therby  put  to  great  trouble  & 
charge,  of  which  I  will  give  an  instance  or  tow,  &  omitte 
the  rest. 

Ther  was  a  large  companie  of  them  purposed  to  get  pas- 
sage at  Boston  in  Lincoln-shire,  and  for  that  end  had  hired 
a  shipe  wholy  to  them  selves,  &  made  agreement  with  the 
maister  to  be  ready  at  a  certaine  day,  and  take  them  and  their 


238  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

goods  in,  at  a  conveniente  place,  wher  they  accordingly  would 
all  attende  in  readines.  So  after  long  waiting,  &  large  ex- 
pences,  though  he  kepte  not  day  with  them,  yet  he  came  at 
length  &  tooke  them  in,  in  y^  night.  But  when  he  had  them 
&  their  goods  abord,  he  betrayed  them,  haveing  before  hand 
complotted  with  y^  serchers  &  other  officers  so  to  doe  ;  who 
tooke  them,  and  put  them  into  open  boats,  &  ther  rifled  & 
ransaked  them,  searching  them  to  their  shirts  for  money, 
.  .  .  and  then  caried  them  back  into  y^  towne,  &  made  them 
a  spectackle  &  wonder  to  y^  multitude,  which  came  flocking 
on  all  sids  to  behould  them.  Being  thus  first,  by  the  chatch- 
poule  officers,  rifled,  &  stripte  of  their  money,  books,  and 
much  other  goods,  they  were  presented  to  y*^  magestrates, 
and  messengers  sente  to  informe  y*^  lords  of  y^  Counsell  of 
them  ;  and  so  they  were  coinited  to  ward.  Indeed  y^  mages- 
trats  used  them  courteously,  and  shewed  them  what  favour 
they  could ;  but  could  not  deliver  them,  till  order  came  from 
ye  Counsell-table.  But  y^  issue  was  that  after  a  months  im- 
prisonmente,  y^  greatest  parte  were  dismiste,  &  sent  to  y^ 
places  from  whence  they  came  ;  but  7.  of  y^  principall  were 
still  kept  in  prison,  and  bound  over  to  y*^  Assises.  .  .  . 

.  .  .  Yet  I  may  not  omitte  y^  fruite  that  came  hearby,  for 
by  these  so  publick  troubls,  in  so  many  eminente  places,  their 
cause  became  famouss,  &  occasioned  many  to  looke  into  y« 
same ;  and  their  godly  cariage  &  Christian  behaviour  was  such 
as  left  a  deep  impression  in  the  minds  of  many.  And  though 
some  few  shrunk  at  these  first  conflicts  &  sharp  beginings, 
(as  it  was  no  marvell,)  yet  many  more  came  on  with  fresh 
courage,  &  greatly  animated  others.  And  in  y'^  end,  notwith- 
standing all  these  stormes  of  oppossition,  they  all  gatt  over 
at  length,  some  at  one  time  &  some  at  an  other,  and  some  in 
one  place  &  some  in  an  other,  and  mette  togeather  againe 
according  to  their  desires,  with  no  small  rejoycing. 


OF  PTJMOTII   PLANTA'I'IOX  239 


The  3.  Chap. 

Of  their  set  ling  in  Holand,  and  their  maner  of  living,  dr'  enter- 

taintnente  ther 


Being  thus  setled  (after  many  difficulties)  they  continued 
many  years  in  a  comfortable  condition,  injoying  much  sweete 
&  delightefull  societie  &  spirituall  comforte  togeather  in  y^ 
wayes  of  God,  under  y^  able  ministrie,  and  prudente  govern- 
mente  of  M"".  John  Robinson,  &  M^  William  Brewster,  who 
was  an  assistante  unto  him  in  y*^  place  of  an  Inkier,  unto 
which  he  was  now  called  &  chosen  by  the  church.  So  as 
they  grew  in  knowledge  &  other  gifts  &  graces  of  y^  spirite 
of  God,  &  lived  togeather  in  peace,  &  love,  and  holines  ; 
and  many  came  unto  them  from  diverse  parts  of  England, 
so  as  they  grew  a  great  congregation.  .  .  , 

The  4.  Chap. 
Showing y'  reasons  dr'  causes  of  their  renioovall 

After  they  had  lived  in  this  citic  [LEYDEN]  about  some 
1 1,  or  1 2. years,  (which  is  y^  more  observable  being  y^  whole 
time  of  yt  famose  truce  between  that  state  &  y^  Spaniards,) 
and  sundrie  of  them  were  taken  away  by  death,  &  many 
others  begane  to  be  well  striken  in  years,  the  grave  mistris 
Experience  haveing  taught  them  many  things,  [16]  those 
prudent  governours  with  sundrie  of  y^  sagest  members  be- 
gane both  deeply  to  apprehend  their  present  dangers,  & 
wisely  to  foresee  y<^  future,  &  thinke  of  timly  remedw  In 
ye  agitation  of  their  thoughts,  and  much  discours  of  things 
hear  aboute,  at  length  they  began  to  incline  to  this  conclu- 
sion, of  remoovall  to  some  other  place.  Not  out  of  any  new- 
fanglednes,  or  other  such  like  giddic  humor,  by  which  men  are 


240  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

oftentimes  transported  to  their  great  hurt  &  danger,  but  for 
sundrie  weightie  &  sohd  reasons  ;  some  of  y^  cheefe  of  which 
I  will  hear  breefly  touch.  And  first,  they  saw  &  found  by 
experience  the  hardnes  of  y«^  place  &  countrie  to  be  such,  as 
few  in  comparison  would  come  to  them,  and  fewer  that  would 
bide  it  out,  and  continew  with  them.  For  many  y*  came  to 
them,  and  many  more  y*  desired  to  be  with  them,  could  not 
endure  y^  great  labor  and  hard  fare,  with  other  inconveniences 
which  they  underwent  &  were  contented  with  .  .  .  yea,  some 
preferred  &  chose  y^  prisons  in  England,  rather  then  this 
libertie  in  Holland,  with  these  afflictions.  But  it  was  thought 
that  if  a  better  and  easier  place  of  living  could  be  had,  it 
would  draw  many,  &  take  away  these  discouragments.  .   .  . 

2iy.  They  saw  that  though  y^  people  generally  bore  all 
these  difficulties  very  cherfully,  &  with  a  resolute  courage, 
being  in  y^  best  &  strength  of  their  years,  yet  old  age  began 
to  steale  on  many  of  them,  (and  their  great  &  continuall 
labours,  with  other  crosses  and  sorrows,  hastened  it  before  y^ 
time,)  so  as  it  was  not  only  probably  thought,  but  apparently 
seen,  that  within  a  few  years  more  they  would  be  in  danger 
to  scatter,  by  necessities  pressing  them,  or  sinke  under  their 
burdens,  or  both.  .  .  .  (i6)  Thirdly;  as  necessitie  was  a  task- 
master over  them,  so  they  were  forced  to  be  such,  not  only  to 
their  servants,  but  in  a  sorte,  to  their  dearest  children  ;  the 
which  as  it  did  not  a  little  wound  y^  tender  harts  of  many  a 
loving  father  &  mother,  so  it  produced  likwise  sundrie  sad  & 
sorowful  effects.  For  many  of  their  children,  that  were  of 
best  dispositions  and  gracious  inclinations,  haveing  lernde  to 
bear  y^  yoake  in  their  youth,  and  willing  to  bear  parte  of  their 
parents  burden,  were,  often  times,  so  oppressed  with  their 
hevie  labours,  that  though  their  minds  were  free  and  willing, 
yet  their  bodies  bowed  under  y^  weight  of  y^  same,  and  be- 
came decreped  in  their  early  youth ;  the  vigor  of  nature  being 


OF  PLIMOTII    I'LAX'l'A  riOX 


241 


consumed  in  y<=  very  budd  as  it  were,  lUit  that  which  was 
more  lamentable,  and  of  all  sorowes  most  heavie  to  be  borne, 
was  that  many  of  their  children,  by  these  occasions,  and  ye 
great  licentiousncs  of  youth  in  y*  countrie,  and  y^  manifold 
temptations  of  the  place,  were  drawne  away  by  evill  examples 
into  extravagante  &  dangerous  courses,  getting  y^  raines  off 
their  neks,  &  departing  from  their  parents.  Some  became 
souldiers,  others  tooke  upcjn  them  farr  viages  by  sea,  and 
other  some  worse  courses,  tending  to  dissolutnes  &  the  dan- 
ger of  their  soules,  to  y^  great  greefe  of  their  parents  and 
dishonour  of  God.  So  that  they  saw  their  posteritie  would 
be  in  danger  to  degenerate  &  be  corrupted. 

Lastly,  (and  which  was  not  least,)  a  great  hope  &  inward 
zeall  they  had  of  laying  some  good  foundation,  or  at  least  to 
make  some  way  therunto,  for  y^  propagating  &  advancing 
ye  gospell  of  ye  kingdom  of  Christ  in  those  remote  parts  of 
ye  world  ;  yea,  though  they  should  be  but  even  as  stepping- 
stones  unto  others  for  ye  performing  of  so  great  a  work.  .  .  . 

The  place  they  had  thoughts  on  was  some  of  those  vast  & 
unpeopled  countries  of  America,  which  are  frutfull  &  fitt  for 
habitation,  being  devoyd  of  all  civill  inhabitants,  wher  ther 
are  only  salvage  81  brutish  men,  which  range  up  and  downe, 
little  otherwise  then  ye  wild  beasts  of  the  same.  This  proposi- 
tion being  made  publike  and  coming  to  ye  scaning  of  all,  it 
raised  many  variable  opinions  amongst  men,  and  caused  many 
fears  &  doubts  amongst  them  selves.  .  .  . 

...  Ye  Spaniard  might  prove  as  cruell  as  [18]  the  salvages 
of  America,  and  ye  famine  and  pestelence  as  sore  hear  as 
ther,  &  their  libertie  less  to  looke  out  for  remedie.  After 
many  other  perticuler  things  answered  &  aledged  on  both 
sids,  it  was  fully  concluded  by  ye  major  parte,  to  put  this 
designe  in  execution,  and  to  prosecute  it  by  the  best  means 
they  could. 


242  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

Number  ^j 
SIR  JOHN   ELIOT 

G.  M.  Trevelyan.    England  under  the  Siuarts,  pp.  136,  137,  155,  157,  159. 

Sir  John  Eliot,  the  squire  of  St.  Germans  and  Vice- 
Admiral  of  Devon,  had  watched  the  Cadiz  armament  leave 
and  return  to  Plymouth  ;  he  had  seen  the  bad  food,  the  rot- 
ten ships,  the  tackle,  some  of  which  had  been  used  in  the 
chase  after  the  Armada,  the  English  sailors  starving  in  port, 
and  the  English  soldiers  robbing  from  farm  to  farm  in  their 
own  country.  Bound  though  he  was  to  Buckingham  by  old 
service  and  friendship,  Eliot  determined  that  it  would  be  his 
duty,  if  he  were  sent  up  to  Parliament,  to  remove  that  man 
from  his  place.  By  undertaking  this  task,  which  he  conceived 
specially  incumbent  on  him  as  a  private  member,  he  stepped 
at  once  into  the  informal  leadership  left  vacant  by  Coke  and 
Phelips.  He  instituted  the  impeachment  of  the  Duke  before 
the  Lords,  this  being  then  the  only  means  of  obtaining  a 
change  of  minister.  The  Commons  showed,  by  frequent  ad- 
vances, that  they  would  be  satisfied  if  the  Duke  retired  from 
office  ;  but  when  Charles  refused  to  consider  their  resolutions, 
they  could  only  enforce  their  complaint  of  incompetence  by 
converting  it  into  a  charge  of  crime.  Yet  Buckingham  could 
not  be  proved  guilty,  unless  folly  becomes  criminal  through 
excess.  The  confusion  of  the  royal  accounts  baffled  inquiry 
into  the  charges  of  peculation ;  but  it  is  probable  that  he  was 
innocent,  for  the  favourite  had  no  need  to  acquire  money  by 
stealth.  Charles,  who  loved  Buckingham  as  he  never  loved 
Strafford,  took  up  his  cause  with  passion.  To  save  the  Duke 
he  dissolved  the  Parliament.   .   .   . 


SIR   JDTIV   F.TJOT  243 

The  business  of  the  session  of  January  to  March,  1629, 
can  be  read  in  the  famous  Three  Resolutions  :  — 

Whosoever  shall  bring  in  innovation  in  religion,  or  by  favour  seek 
to  extend  or  introduce  Popery  or  Arminianism,  or  other  opinions  dis- 
agreeing from  the  true  and  orthodox  Church,  shall  be  reputed  a  capital 
enemy  to  this  kingdom  and  the  commonwealth. 

Whosoever  shall  counsel  or  advise  the  taking  and  levying  of  the  sub- 
sidies of  tonnage  and  poundage  not  being  granted  by  Parliament,  or 
shall  be  an  actor  or  instrument  therein,  shall  be  likewise  reputed  an 
innovator  in  the  government,  and  a  capital  enemy  to  this  kingdom  and 
commonwealth. 

If  any  merchant  or  other  person  whatsoever  shall  voluntarily  yield 
or  pay  the  said  subsidies  of  tonnage  and  poundage,  not  being  granted  by 
Parliament,  he  shall  likewise  be  reputed  a  betrayer  of  the  liberty  of 
England,  and  an  enemy  to  the  same. 

Such  were  the  Three  Resolutions  of  the  last  and  greatest 
day  of  Eliot's  Parliamentary  career,  passed  by  the  shouts  of 
the  angry  members,  thronging  and  swaying  round  the  chair 
into  which  they  had  forced  back  the  frightened  Speaker, 
whilst  the  blows  of  the  King's  officers  without  resounded  on 
the  fastened  door.  When  they  had  so  voted,  they  flung  all 
open  and  poured  out  flushed  into  the  cold  air  of  heaven, 
freemen  still  and  already  almost  rebels.   .   .  . 

Charles,  determined  as  ever  to  retain  the  right  of  punish- 
ing his  political  opponents  at  will,  wished  to  enjoy  that 
despot's  luxury  within  the  apparent  forms  of  English  law. 
His  recent  consent  to  the  Petition  of  Right  made  it  difficult 
to  continue  the  system  of  prolonged  imprisonment  without 
trial.  .  .  ,  Nine  members  of  the  late  Parliament  were  called 
to  account  before  the  Privy  Council  for  their  conduct  in  the 
House  of  Commons.  Most  of  them,  after  a  considerable 
period  of  imprisonment,  dissembled  their  real  convictions, 
apologised  and   were  sent  home.    The  remainder,   among 


244  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

whom  was  Eliot,  were  after  infinite  delays  and  hardships 
brought  up  before  the  Judges  of  the  King's  Bench.  But  that 
Court  could  not  rightfully  take  cognisance  of  words  spoken 
within  the  walls  of  the  House  of  Commons.  The  prisoners, 
standing  firm  for  the  privileges  of  Parliament,  refused  to 
plead  before  an  unlawful  jurisdiction.  They  were  condemned 
to  pay  fines,  and  to  lie  in  prison  till  they  chose  to  apologise 
to  the  King  for  their  conduct  in  the  House.  Eliot,  Strode 
and  Valentine,  refusing  to  make  any  submission,  were  con- 
signed to  prison  without  any  hope  of  release.  These  proceed- 
ings showed  that  even  should  the  letter  of  the  Petition  of 
Right  be  always  observ^ed,  it  could  not  vindicate  personal 
libert}^,  which  nothing  but  a  revolution  in  the  State  could 
secure. 

.  .  .  When  he  [Eliot]  heard  in  prison  that  the  land  seemed 
sinking  to  its  rest,  he  was  neither  shaken  in  his  own  purpose 
nor  chagrined  by  the  different  course  followed  by  his  friends. 
His  letters,  speeches  and  actions  in  the  Tower  reveal  a  spirit 
of  cheerfulness  and  even  of  humour,  admirable  in  one  who 
knows  that  he  has  chosen  to  die  in  prison  in  the  hands  of 
victorious  enemies.  In  1632  he  contracted  consumption 
from  his  cold  and  unhealthy  quarters.  He  in  vain  petitioned 
the  King  for  a  change  of  air.  Charles  had  determined  that 
if  he  would  not  retract  he  might  die.  A  month  later  he 
was  dead.  His  son  asked  to  be  allowed  to  convey  his  body 
to  Port  Eliot.  "  Let  Sir  John  Eliot  be  buried  in  the  church 
of  that  parish  where  he  died,"  answered  the  pitiless  man, 
who  was  one  day  himself  to  appeal  for  pity  to  all  peoples 
and  ages. 

But  though  the  church  by  the  Cornish  estuary  does  not 
hold  Sir  John  Eliot,  the  manor  house  that  stands  beside  it 
contains  a  worthy  and  curious  memento  of  his  last  hours. 
A  few  days  before  he  died,  he  sent  for  an  artist  to  the  Tower 


'riii';  i'i:'Jiri().\  ()!•  kight 


245 


to  paint  his  picture.  He  stands  in  a  white  frilled  dressing- 
gown,  with  a  comb  in  his  hand  and  hair  falling  over  his  eyes, 
a  cheerful  invalid  not  asking  for  our  pity.  He  left  to  his 
descendants  that  one  patient,  humorous  appeal  against  the 
tyranny  that  took  away  his  life. 

Ahwiber  ^^ 
THE   PETITION    OF   RIGHT 

Sir  John  Eliot.  Excerpts  with  notes  from  speech  dehvered  in  the  House 
of  Commons,  June  3,  1628.  Chauncey  A.  Goodrich,  Select  British  Elo- 
tjuence,  pp.  3-6.    For  the  author  see  Number  43,  above. 

Mr.  Speaker,  —  We  sit  here  as  the  great  Council  of  the 
King,  and  in  that  capacity,  it  is  our  duty  to  take  into  con- 
sideration the  state  and  affairs  of  the  kingdom,  and  when 
there  is  occasion,  to  give  a  true  representation  of  them  by 
way  of  counsel  and  advice,  with  what  we  conceive  necessary 
or  expedient  to  be  done.  .   .   . 

I.  For  the  first,  then,  our  insincerity  and  doubting  in 
religion,  is  the  greatest  and  most  dangerous  disorder  of  all 
others.  .   .  . 

II.  For  the  second,  our  want  of  councils,  that  great  dis- 
order in  a  state  under  which  there  can  not  be  stability.   .  .  . 

III.  For  the  next,  the  insufficiency  and  unfaithfulness  of 
our  generals  (that  great  disorder  abroad),  what  shall  I  say .'' 
I  wish  there  were  not  cause  to  mention  it ;  and,  but  for  the 
apprehension  of  the  danger  that  is  to  come,  if  the  like  choice 
hereafter  be  not  prevented,  I  could  willingly  be  silent.  But 
my  duty  to  my  sovereign,  my  service  to  this  House,  and  the 
safety  and  honor  of  my  country,  are  above  all  respects  ;  and 
what  so  nearly  trenches  to  the  prejudice  of  these,  must  not, 
shall  not  be  forborne. 


246  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

At  Cadiz,!  ^hgn,  in  tliat  first  expedition  we  made,  when  we 
arrived  and  found  a  conquest  ready  —  the  Spanish  ships,  I 
mean,  fit  for  the  satisfaction  of  a  voyage,  and  of  which  some 
of  the  chiefest  then  there,  themselves  have  since  assured  me, 
that  the  satisfaction  would  have  been  sufficient,  either  in 
point  of  honor  or  in  point  of  profit  ^ —  zvhy  ivas  it  neglected? 
Why  was  it  not  achieved,  it  being  granted  on  all  hands  how 
feasible  it  was  ?  .  .  . 

For  the  next  undertaking,  at  Rhe,^  I  will  not  trouble  you 
much  ;  only  this,  in  short.  Was  not  that  whole  action  carried 

1  Buckingham,  at  the  close  of  1625,  had  fitted  out  a  fleet  of  eighty  sail,  to  inter- 
cept the  Spanish  treasure-ships  from  America,  to  scour  the  coasts  of  Spain,  and 
destroy  the  shipping  in  her  ports.  Owing  to  the  utter  incompetency  of  the  com- 
mander, there  was  no  concert  or  subordination  in  the  fleet.  The  treasure-ships  were 
not  intercepted  ;  but  seven  other  large  and  rich  Spanish  ships,  which  would  have 
repaid  all  the  expenses  of  the  expedition,  were  suffered  to  escape,  when  they  might 
easily  have  been  taken.  At  length  a  landing  was  effected  in  the  neighborhood  of 
Cadiz,  and  the  paltry  fort  of  Puntal  was  taken.  The  English  soldiers  broke  open  the 
wine-cellars  of  the  country  around,  and  became  drunk  and  unmanageable  ;  so  that 
the  Spanish  troops,  if  they  had  known  their  condition,  might  easily  have  cut  the 
whole  army  to  pieces.  Their  commander,  as  the  only  course  left  him,  retreated  to 
the  ships,  leaving  some  hundreds  of  his  men  to  perish  under  the  knives  of  the 
enraged  peasantry. 

2  Buckingham,  from  motives  of  personal  resentment  against  the  French  king, 
undertook,  in  June,  1627,  to  aid  the  Huguenots  at  Rochelle,  who  were  in  a  state  of 
open  rebellion.  He  therefore  sailed  with  a  fleet  of  one  hundred  ships  and  seven 
thousand  land  forces,  taking  the  command  of  the  expedition  himself,  and  expecting 
to  be  received  with  open  arms.  But  the  Rochellers,  having  no  previous  arrangement 
with  him  on  the  subject,  and  probably  distrusting  his  intentions,  refused  to  admit 
him  into  the  town,  and  advised  him  to  take  possession  of  the  Isle  of  Rhe,  in  the 
neighborhood.  This  he  did,  and  immediately  issued  a  manifesto,  inciting  the  Protes- 
tants throughout  France  to  rebel  against  their  government.  Great  indignation  was 
awakened  in  Europe  by  this  attempt  to  rekindle  the  flames  of  civil  war  in  that 
country.  His  appeal  was,  unfortunately,  successful.  The  Protestants  in  the  south  of 
France  rose  almost  to  a  man.  A  bloody  conflict  ensued,  in  which  they  were  com- 
pletely crushed,  and  their  condition  rendered  far  more  wretched  than  before.  Buck- 
ingham, in  the  meantime,  conducted  everything  wildly  and  at  random.  In  October, 
a  re-enforcement  of  fifteen  hundred  men  was  sent  out  mentioned  in  the  speech  as 
"the  last  voyage  to  Rochelle  ;"  but  the  Duke  was  still  repulsed,  with  loss  at  every 
point,  till  he  was  compelled  to  return  in  disgrace,  with  the  loss  of  one  third  of  his 
troops,  in  the  month  of  November,  1627.  This  speech  was  delivered  in  June  of  the 
next  year,  while  the  nation  was  still  smarting  under  the  sense  of  the  disasters  and 
disgraces  of  this  mad  expedition. 


THE  PETITION  OF  RIGHT  247 

against  the  judgment  and  opinion  of  those  ofificers  that  were 
of  the  council  ?  ...  If  there  should  be  made  a  particular 
inquisition  thereof,  these  things  will  be  manifest  and  more. 
I  will  not  instance  the  manifesto  that  was  made,  giving  the 
reason  of  these  arms  ;  nor  by  whom,  nor  in  what  manner,  nor 
on  what  grounds  it  was  published,  nor  what  effects  it  hath 
wrought,  drawing,  as  it  were,  almost  the  whole  world  into 
league  against  us.  Nor  will  I  mention  the  leaving  of  the 
wines,  the  leaving  of  the  salt,  which  were  in  our  possession, 
and  of  a  value,  as  it  is  said,  to  answer  much  of  our  expense. 
Nor  will  I  dwell  on  that  great  wonder  (which  no  Alexander 
or  Caesar  ^  ever  did),  the  enriching  of  the  enemy  by  courtesies 
when  our  soldiers  wanted  help  ;  nor  the  private  intercourse 
and  parleys  with  the  fort,  which  were  continually  held. 
What  they  intended  may  be  read  in  the  success  ;  and  upon 
due  examination  thereof,  they  would  not  want  their  proofs. 

For  the  last  voyage  to  Rochelle,  there  need  no  observa- 
tions, it  is  so  fresh  in  memory  ;  nor  will  I  make  an  inference 
or  corrollary  on  all.  Your  own  knowledge  shall  judge  what 
truth  or  what  sufficiency  they  express. 

IV.  For  the  next,  the  ignorance  and  corruption  of  our 
ministers,  where  can  )(;u  miss  of  instances  ?  If  you  survey 
the  court,  if  you  survey  the  country ;  if  the  church,  if  the 
city  be  examined  ;  if  you  observe  the  bar,  if  the  bench,  if  the 
ports,  if  tlic  shipping,  if  the  land,  if  the  seas  —  all  these  will 
render  you  variety  of  proofs  ;  and  that  in  such  measure  and 
proportion  as  shows  the  greatness  of  our  disease  to  be  such 
that,  if  there  be  not  some  speedy  application  for  remedy,  our 
case  is  almost  desperate. 

1  This  sneer  at  the  generalship  of  Buckingham  was  keenly  felt,  and  derived  its 
peculiar  force  from  the  lofty  pretensions  and  high-soundmg  titles  he  assumed.  He 
had  also  made  himself  ridiculous,  and  even  suspected  of  treachery,  by  his  affectation 
of  courtesy  in  the  interchange  of  civilities  with  the  French  commanders.  To  this 
Eliot  alludes  with  stinging  effect  in  the  remaining  part  of  the  sentence. 


248  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

V.  Mr,  Speaker,  I  fear  I  have  been  too  long  in  these  par- 
ticulars that  are  past,  and  am  unwilling  to  offend  you  :  there- 
fore in  the  rest  I  shall  be  shorter ;  and  as  to  that  which 
concerns  the  impoverishing  of  the  King,  no  other  arguments 
will  I  use  than  such  as  all  men  grant. 

The  exchequer,  you  know,  is  empty,  and  the  reputation 
thereof  gone  ;  the  ancient  lands  are  sold  ;  the  jewels  pawned ; 
the  plate  engaged  ;  ^  the  debts  still  great ;  almost  all  charges, 
both  ordinary  and  extraordinar}',  borne  up  by  projects  !  What 
poverty  can  be  greater  ?  What  necessity  so  great }  What  per- 
fect English  heart  is  not  almost  dissolved  into  sorrow  for 
this  truth  f 

VI,  For  the  oppression  of  the  subject,  which  as  I  remem- 
ber, is  the  next  particular  I  proposed,  it  needs  no  demonstra- 
tion. The  whole  kingdom  is  a  proof  ;  and  for  the  exhausting 
of  our  treasures,  that  very  oppression  speaks  it.  What  waste 
of  our  provisions,  what  consumption  of  our  ships,  what  de- 
struction of  our  men  there  hath  been  ;  witness  that  expedition 
to  Algiers  ^  —  witness  that  with  Mansf eldt  —  witness  that  to 
Cadiz  —  witness  the  next  —  witness  that  to  Rhe  —  witness 
the  last  (I  pray  God  we  may  never  have  more  such  witnesses) 
—  witness,  likewise,  the  Palatinate  —  witness  Denmark  — 
witness  the  Turks  —  witness  the  Dunkirkers — witness  all! 
What  losses  we  have  sustained  !  How  we  are  impaired  in 
munitions,  in  ships,  in  men  ! 

It  is  beyond  contradiction  that  we  were  never  so  much 
weakened,  nor  ever  had  less  hope  how  to  be  restored. 


1  Buckingham  had  taken  the  crown  jewels  and  plate  to  Holland,  and  pawned  them 
for  ^^300,000. 

2  Buckingham,  some  years  before,  had  sent  out  an  expedition  for  the  capture  of 
Algiers.  It  resulted  in  a  total  failure,  and  so  incensed  the  Algerines,  that  the  com- 
merce of  England  suffered  ten-fold  loss  in  consequence  ;  thirty-five  ships,  engaged 
in  the  Mediterranean  trade,  having  been  captured  within  a  few  months,  and  their 
crews  sold  for  slaves. 


THE  PETITION  OF  RIGHT 


249 


These,  Mr.  Speaker,  are  our  dangers,  these  are  they  who 
do  threaten  us  ;  and  these  are,  Hke  the  Trojan  horse,  brought 
in  cunningly  to  surprise  us.  In  these  do  lurk  the  strongest 
of  our  enemies,  ready  to  issue  on  us  ;  and  if  we  do  not 
speedily  expel  them,  these  are  the  signs,  these  the  invitations 
to  others  !  These  will  so  prepare  their  entrance,  that  we  shall 
have  no  means  left  of  refuge  or  defense  ;  for  if  we  have  these 
enemies  at  home,  how  can  we  strive  with  those  that  are 
abroad  ?  If  we  be  free  from  these,  no  other  can  impeach  us. 
Our  ancient  English  virtue  (like  the  old  Spartan  valor), 
cleared  from  these  disorders  —  our  being  in  sincerity  of  re- 
ligion and  once  made  friends  with  heaven  ;  having  maturity 
of  councils,  sufficiency  of  generals,  incorruption  of  officers, 
opulency  in  the  King,  liberty  in  the  people,  repletion  in 
treasure,  plenty  of  provisions,  reparation  of  ships,  preser\^a- 
tion  of  men  —  our  ancient  English  virtue,  I  say,  thus  rectified, 
will  secure  us  ;  and  unless  there  be  a  speedy  reformation  in 
these,  I  know  not  what  hopes  or  expectations  we  can  have. 

These  are  the  things,  sir,  I  shall  desire  to  have  taken 
into  consideration  ;  that  as  we  are  the  great  council  of  the 
kingdom,  and  have  the  apprehension  of  these  dangers,  we 
may  truly  represent  them  unto  the  King ;  which  I  conceive 
we  are  bound  to  do  by  a  triple  obligation  —  of  duty  to  God, 
of  duty  to  his  Majesty,  and  of  duty  to  our  country. 

And  therefore  I  wish  it  may  so  stand  with  the  wisdom 
and  judgment  of  the  House,  that  these  things  may  be  drawn 
into  the  body  of  a  Remonstrance,  and  in  all  humility  ex- 
pressed, with  a  pra}-er  to  his  Majesty  that,  for  the  safety  of 
himself,  for  the  safety  of  the  kingdom,  and  for  the  safetv  of 
religion,  he  will  be  pleased  to  give  us  time  to  make  perfect 
inquisition  thereof,  or  to  take  them  into  his  own  wisdom,  and 
there  give  them  such  timely  reformation  as  the  necessity  and 
justice  of  the  case  doth  import. 


250  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

And  thus,  sir,  with  a  large  affection  and  loyalty  to  his 
Majesty,  and  with  a  firm  duty  and  service  to  my  countr}^  I 
have  suddenly  (and  it  may  be  with  some  disorder)  expressed 
the  weak  apprehensions  I  have;  wherein  if  I  have  erred, 
I  humbly  crave  your  pardon,  and  so  submit  myself  to  the 
censure  of  the  House. 


Number  4^ 

ATTEMPTED   ARREST   OF   FIVE    MEMBERS   OF 
THE  HOUSE  OF  COMMONS  BY  CHARLES  I 

Samuel   Rawson   Gardiner.    History  of  England,  1603-1642,  Vol.   X, 
pp.  132,  134-142. 

Before  anything  could  be  done,  the  Serjeant-at-Arms  ap- 
peared with  orders  from  Charles  to  arrest  the  five  members. ^ 
A  committee  was  named  to  acquaint  the  King  that  the  de- 
mand concerned  their  privileges,  and  that  they  would  send  a 
reply  as  soon  as  they  had  given  it  full  consideration.  In  the 
meantime,  the  gentlemen  named  would  be  ready  to  answer 
any  legal  accusation.  That  this  might  be  made  plain,  the  five 
members  were  ordered  to  appear  in  their  places  from  day 
to  day.   .   .   . 

If  the  members  were  to  be  arrested  at  all,  common  pru- 
dence would  have  dictated  an  attempt  to  seize  them  in  their 
beds,  as  the  French  Parliamentary  leaders  were  seized  in 
1 8  5 1 .  Such  a  course  it  was  impossible  for  Charles  to  adopt. 
He  wanted  —  if  it  were  but  for  the  satisfaction  of  his  own 
mind  —  to  preserve  the  appearance  of  legality,  and  he  proba- 
bly imagined  that  he  could  persuade  even  the  House  of  Com- 
mons of  the  rectitude  of  his  intentions.    No  doubt  he  must 

1  Pym,  Hampden,  Holies,  Hazlerigg,  and  Strode,  suspected  of  a  plan  to  impeach 
the  Queen  as  a  conspirator  against  the  public  liberties. 


ATTEMPTED  ARREST  OF  FIVE  MEMBERS 


251 


have  sufficient  force  about  him  to  secure  his  object,  and  to 
compel  obedience  if  it  were  denied.  It  was  not  in  his  char- 
acter to  expect  a  persistent  refusal,  or  to  represent  clearly  to 
himself  the  bloodshed  which  might  ensue  in  case  of  resistance. 

Charles  little  imagined  that  before  he  went  to  bed  that 
night  his  secret  was  already  known.  Very  possibly  Clarendon 
may  have  been  right  in  thinking  that  Will  Murray  was  the 
betrayer.  The  next  morning,  when  the  House  met,  the  five 
members  protested  their  innocency.  The  Commons  sent  up 
the  articles  of  accusation  to  the  Lords  as  a  scandalous  paper, 
accompanying  them  with  a  request  that  inquiry  might  be 
made  into  its  authorship.  Messages  were  sent  to  the  Inns  of 
Court,  to  express  the  assurance  of  the  House  that  their  mem- 
bers would  not  act  against  Parliament.  Soon  afterwards  news 
was  brought '  that  there  was  a  great  cor^uence  of  armed  men 
about  Whitehall,'  and  it  was  known  that  measures  had  been 
taken  to  secure  the  Tower  for  the  King.  A  fresh  message 
was  thereupon  sent  off  to  warn  the  City.  Nothing  more  had 
been  done  when  the  House  adjourned  for  the  dinner  hour 
at  noon. 

If  the  blow  had  not  already  fallen,  it  was  because  Charles 
had  been  involved  in  his  usual  vacillation.  According  to  a 
not  improbable  account,  he  had  that  morning  sought  out  the 
Queen,  and  had  given  strong  reasons  against  the  execution 
of  the  plan.  Henrietta  Maria  was  in  no  mood  to  accept  ex- 
cuses. "Go,  you  coward!"  she  cried,  "and  pull  these  rogues 
out  by  the  ears,  or  never  see  my  face  more."  Charles  bowed 
to  fate  and  his  high-spirited  wife,  and  left  her,  resolved  to 
hang  back  no  longer.  Again  there  was  delay,  perhaps  on 
account  of  the  adjournment  at  midday  ;  and  before  Charles 
actually  left  Whitehall  the  Queen  had  trusted  the  secret  to 
her  ill-chosen  confidante  Lady  Carlisle,  and  Lady  Carlisle  at 
once  conveyed  the  news  to  Essex. 


252  READINGS  IN   ENGLISH  HISTORY 

Before  dinner  was  over  the  five  accused  members  received 
a  message  from  Essex,  telling  them  that  the  King  was  coming 
in  person  to  seize  them,  and  recommending  them  to  with- 
draw. They  could  not  make  up  their  minds  as  yet  to  fly.  In 
truth,  Charles  was  still  hesitating  in  his  usual  fashion,  and  it 
might  be  that  he  would  never  accomplish  his  design.  When 
the  House  met  again  at  one,  satisfactory  replies  were  received 
from  the  Inns  of  Court.  The  lawyers  said  that  they  had 
gone  to  Whitehall,  because  they  were  bound  to  defend  the 
King's  person,  but  that  they  were  also  ready  to  defend  the 
Parliament.  The  Lords,  too,  had  shown  themselves  resolute, 
and  had  agreed  to  join  the  Commons  in  styling  the  Attorney- 
General's  Articles  a  scandalous  paper. 

Then  came  a  statement  from  Fiennes.  He  had  been  to 
Whitehall  during  the  ^idjournment,  and  had  been  told  by  the 
officers  that  they  had  been  commanded  to  obey  Sir  William 
Fleming,  one  of  the  two  who  had  been  sent  round  to  enlist 
the  lawyers  on  the  King's  side. 

The  full  meaning  of  this  news  was  soon  to  appear.  It 
may  be  that  the  contemptuous  term  applied  to  the  accusation 
which  he  had  authorised  had  at  last  goaded  Charles  to  action. 
Late  —  but,  as  she  fondly  hoped,  not  too  late  —  the  Queen 
had  her  way.  About  three  o'clock,  Charles,  taking  with  him 
the  Elector  Palatine,  hurried  down-stairs,  calling  out,  '"  Let 
my  faithful  subjects  and  soldiers  follow  me."  Throwing 
himself  into  a  coach  which  happened  to  be  near  the 
door  he  drove  off,  followed  by  some  three  or  four  hundred 
armed  men. 

Such  a  number  could  not  march  at  any  great  speed.  A 
Frenchman,  named  Langres,  who  had  probably  been  set  to 
watch  by  the  Ambassador  La  Ferte,  pushed  through  the 
crowd,  and  ran  swiftly  to  the  House  of  Commons.  He  at 
once  called  upon  Fiennes  and  told  him  what  he  had  seen. 


ATTKMI'lia)   ARRF.ST  OF  I'FVK  MEMBERS      253 

The  five  members  were  at  once  requested  to  withdraw.  Pym, 
Hampden,  I  lazlerigg,  and  Holies  took  the  course  which 
prudence  dictated.  Strode,  always  impetuous,  insisted  on  re- 
maining to  face  the  worst,  till  Erie  seized  him  by  the  cloak 
and  dragged  him  off  to  the  river-side,  where  boats  were  always 
to  be  found.    The  five  were  all  conveyed  in  safety  to  the  City, 

It  was  high  time  for  them  to  be  gone.  Charles's  fierce 
retinue  struck  terror  as  it  passed.  The  shopkeepers  in  the 
mean  buildings  which  had  been  run  up  against  the  north  end 
of  Westminster  Hall  hastily  closed  their  windows.  Charles 
alighted  and  strode  rapidly  through  the  Hall  between  the 
ranks  of  the  armed  throng.  As  he  mounted  the  steps  which 
led  to  the  House  of  Commons,  he  gave  the  signal  to  his  fol- 
lowers to  await  his  return  there.  About  eighty  of  them,  how- 
ever, probably  in  consequence  of  previous  orders,  pressed 
after  him  into  tlie  lobby,  and  it  was  afterwards  noticed  that 
"  divers  of  the  late  army  in  the  North,  and  other  desperate 
ruffians  '  had  been  selected  for  this  post. 

Charles  did  his  best  to  maintain  a  show  of  decency.  He 
sent  a  message  to  the  House,  informing  them  of  his  arrival. 
As  he  entered,  with  the  young  Elector  Palatine  at  his  side, 
he  bade  his  followers  on  their  lives  to  remain  outside.  But 
he  clearly  wished  it  to  be  known  that  he  was  prepared  to 
use  force  if  it  were  necessary.  The  ICarl  of  Roxburgh  leaned 
against  the  door,  keeping  it  open  so  that  the  members  might 
see  what  they  had  to  expect  in  case  of  resistance.  By  Rox- 
burgh's side  stood  Captain  David  Hyde,  one  of  the  greatest 
scoundrels  in  England.  The  rest  were  armed  with  swords 
and  pistols,  and  many  of  them  had  left  their  cloaks  in  the 
Hall  with  the  evident  intention  of  leaving  the  sword-arm  free. 

As  Charles  stepped  through  the  door  which  none  of  his 
predecessors  had  ever  passed,  he  was.  little  as  he  thought 
it,  formally  acknowledging  that  power  had  passed  into  new 


2  54 


READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 


hands.  The  revolution  which  his  shrewd  father  had  descried 
when  he  bade  his  attendants  to  set  stools  for  the  deputies  of 
the  Commons  as  for  the  ambassadors  of  a  king,  was  now  a 
reality  before  him.  He  had  come  to  the  Commons  because 
they  would  no  longer  come  to  him.  To  Charles  the  new  con- 
stitutional fact  was  merely  a  temporary  interruption  of  estab- 
lished order.  In  his  eyes  there  was  visible  no  more  than  a 
mortal  duel  between  King  Charles  and  King  Pym.  As  he 
moved  forwards,  the  members  standing  bareheaded  on  either 
side,  his  glance,  perhaps  involuntarily,  sought  the  place  oii 
the  right  hand  near  the  bar  which  was  usually  occupied  by 
Pym.  That  seat  was  empty.  It  was  the  one  thing  for  which 
he  was  unprepared.  "  By  your  leave,  Mr.  Speaker,"  he  said, 
as  he  reached  the  upper  end  of  the  House,  "  I  must  borrow 
your  chair  a  little."  Standing  in  front  of  it,  he  cast  his  eyes 
around,  seeking  for  those  who  were  by  this  time  far  away. 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  said  at  last,  "  I  am  sorry  for  this  occasion 
of  coming  unto  you.  Yesterday  I  sent  a  Serjeant-at-Arms 
upon  a  very  important  occasion  to  apprehend  some  that  by 
my  command  were  accused  of  high  treason,  whereunto  I  did 
expect  obedience,  and  not  a  message  ;  and  I  must  declare 
unto  )-ou  here  that,  albeit  no  king  that  ever  was  in  England 
shall  be  more  careful  of  your  privileges  to  maintain  them  to 
the  utmost  of  his  power  than  I  shall  be,  yet  you  must  know 
that  in  cases  of  treason  no  person  hath  a  privilege  ;  and 
therefore  I  am  come  to  know  if  any  of  those  persons  that 
were  accused  are  here." 

Once  more  he  cast  his  eyes  around.  "  I  do  not  see  any  of 
them,"  he  muttered.  "  I  think  I  should  know  them."  "  For 
I  must  tell  you,  gentlemen,"  he  went  on  to  say,  in  continua- 
tion of  his  interrupted  address,  "  that  so  long  as  those  persons 
that  I  have  accused  —  for  no  slight  crime,  but  for  treason  — 
are  here,  I  cannot  expect  that  this  House  can  be  in  the  right 


ATTEMPTED  ARREST  OF  FIVE  MEMBERS      255 

way  that  I  do  heartily  wish  it.  Therefore  I  am  come  to  tell 
you  that  I  must  have  them  wheresoever  I  find  them." 

Then,  hoping  against  hope  that  he  had  not  come  in  vain, 
he  put  the  question,  "  Is  Mr.  Pym  here  .-*  "  There  was  no 
reply,  and  a  demand  for  Holies  was  no  less  fruitless. 
Charles  turned  to  Lenthall.  "Are  any  of  these  persons  in 
the  House.-*"  he  asked.  "Do  you  see  any  of  them  .^ 
Where  are  they  ?  "  Lenthall  was  not  a  great  or  heroic  man, 
but  he  knew  what  his  duty  was.  He  now  gave  voice,  in 
words  of  singular  force  and  dexterity,  to  the  common  feeling 
that  no  individual  expression  of  the  intentions  or  opinions  of 
the  House  was  permissible.  "  May  it  please  your  Majesty," 
he  said,  falling  on  his  knee  before  the  King,  "  I  have  neither 
eyes  to  see,  nor  tongue  to  speak,  in  this  place  but  as  this  House 
is  pleased  to  direct  me,  whose  servant  I  am  here  ;  and  I 
humbly  beg  your  Majesty's  pardon  that  I  cannot  give  any 
other  answer  than  this  to  what  your  Majesty  is  pleased  to 
demand  of  me." 

"Well,"  replied  Charles,  assuming  a  cheerfulness  which 
he  can  hardly  have  felt,  "I  think  my  eyes  are  as  good  as 
another's."  Once  more  he  looked  carefully  along  the  benches. 
"  Well,"  he  said,  "  I  see  all  the  birds  are  flown.  I  do  expect 
from  you  that  you  shall  send  them  unto  me  as  soon  as  they 
return  hither.  If  not,  I  will  seek  them  myself,  for  their 
treason  is  foul,  and  such  a  one  as  you  will  thank  me  to  dis- 
cover. But  I  assure  you,  on  the  word  of  a  king,  I  never  did 
intend  any  force,  but  shall  proceed  against  them  in  a  legal 
and  fair  way,  for  I  never  meant  any  other.  I  see  I  cannot 
do  what  I  came  for.  I  think  this  is  no  unfit  occasion  to  re- 
peat what  I  have  said  formerly,  that  whatsoever  I  have  done 
in  favour,  and  to  the  good  of  my  subjects,  I  do  mean  to 
maintain  it." 


256  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

Number  46 
JOHN   HAMPDEN 

C.  H.  Firth.    Adapted  from  article  in  Dictionary  of  National  Biography. 

John  Hampden,  statesman,  was  the  eldest  son  of  William 
Hampden  of  Great  Hampden,  Buckinghamshire,  and  of 
Elizabeth,  daughter  of  Sir  Henry  Cromwell  of  Hincninbrook, 
Huntingdonshire.  If  Wood's  inferences  from  the  matricula- 
tion register  of  Oxford  are  to  be  trusted,  he  was  born  in 
London  in  i  594.  Hampden  was  educated  at  Thame  gram- 
mar school  under  Richard  Bourchier.  He  matriculated  from 
Magdalen  College,  Oxford,  on  30  March  1610,  and  is  de- 
scribed in  the  matriculation  register  as  of  London  and  aged 
fifteen.  .   .   . 

On  24  June  1619  Hampden  married  Elizabeth,  daughter 
of  Edward  Symeon  of  Pyrton,  Oxfordshire,  and  probably  left 
London  and  took  up  his  residence  at  Great  Hampden.  Of 
an  ample  fortune  and  an  old  family,  he  might  have  obtained 
a  post  at  court  or  a  peerage  without  great  difficulty.  .  .  . 
From  the  commencement  of  the  reign  of  Charles  I,  however, 
Hampden  associated  himself  with  the  opposition  to  the  court 
both  in  and  out  of  parliament.  He  seems  to  have  offered 
some  resistance  to  the  pri\^-seal  loan  levied  in  1625,  though 
he  eventually  paid  10/.  out  of  i  3/.  6^-.  8c/.,  at  which  he  was 
assessed.  A  second  forced  loan  he  refused  altogether,  was 
summoned  to  appear  before  the  council  on  29  Jan.  1626- 
1627,  and  was  for  nearly  a  year  confined  in  Hampshire.  .  .  . 

Though  less  prominent  inside  parliament,  Hampden  was 
also  active  there  on  the  side  of  the  opposition.  In  the  parlia- 
ment of  162 1  he  represented  the  borough  of  Grampound  ; 
in  the  first  three  parliaments  of  Charles  I  he  sat  as  member 


JOHN   MAMl'DKN  257 

for  Wendover,  which  owed  the  restoration  of  its  right  to  send 
members  largely  to  Hampden's  efforts.  .  .  .  Opposition  to  the 
court  outside  parliament  and  assiduous  attention  to  his  duties 
in  it  explain  Hampden's  increased  prominence  in  the  third 
parliament  of  Charles  I.    He  was  not  a  frequent  speaker,  but 
he  was  a  member  of  nearly  all  committees  of  importance. 
"  From  this  time  forward  scarcely  was  a  bill  prepared  or  an 
inquiry  begun  upon  any  subject,  however  remotely  affecting  any 
one  of  the  three  great  matters  at  issue  —  privilege,  religion, 
or  supplies  —  but  he  was  thought  fit  to  be  associated  with 
St.  John,  Selden,  Coke,  and  Pym  on  the  committee.'    In  the 
second  session  of  the  same  parliament  he  was  specially  busy 
on  the  different  committees  appointed  to  deal  with  questions 
of  church  reform  or  ecclesiastical  abuses.    In  the  disorderly 
scene  which  closed  the  parliament  of  1629  Hampden  took  no 
part  himself,  but  the  imprisonment  of  Eliot  for  his  share  in 
it  gave  rise  to  an  interesting  and  characteristic  correspondence 
between  the  two.    From  his  prison  in  the  Tower  P21iot  con- 
sulted Hampden  oh  all  questions  of  importance,  and  Hampden 
was  always  ready  to  sympathise  with  or  to  assist  his  imprisoned 
leader.    He  watched  over  the  education  of  his  friend's  chil- 
dren with  affectionate  solicitude,  and  wrote  long  letters  on 
the  advisability  of  sending  Bess  to  a  boarding-school,  John  to 
travel,  or  Richard  to  serve  in  the  wars.    He  spoke  hopefully 
of  their  future,  and,  perhaps  with  some  premonition  of  the 
coming  civil  wars,  urged  Eliot  that  his  son  should  be  husbanded 
for  great  affairs  and  designed  betimes  for  God's  own  service. 
Eliot  communicated  to  Hampden  the  draft  of  the  treatise 
which  he  entitled  '  The  Monarchy  of  Man.'    Hampden  in  his 
reply  terms  it  '  a  nosegay  of  exquisite  flowers  bound  with  as 
fine  a  thread,'  but  suggests,  with  the  greatest  delicacy,  that  a 
little  more  conciseness  would  improve  it.    It  was  to  Hampden 
also  that  Eliot  addressed  the  last  of  his  letters  which  has  been 


258  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH   HISTORY 

preserved,  telling  him  of  the  steady  progress  of  his  disease, 
and  the  consolation  he  derived  from  his  spiritual  hopes.  So 
few  of  Hampden's  letters  exist  that  the  correspondence  with 
Eliot  has  a  special  value.  His  other  letters  deal  mainly  with 
military  movements  and  public  business.  In  these  the  man 
himself  is  revealed.  '  We  may,  perhaps,  be  fanciful,'  remarks 
Macaulay,  '  but  it  seems  to  us  that  ever/  one  of  them  is  an 
admirable  illustration  of  some  part  of  the  character  of  Hamp- 
den which  Clarendon  has  drawn.'  They  exhibit  Hampden, 
moreover,  as  a  man  not  only  '  of  good  sense  and  natural 
good  taste,  but  of  literary  habits.'   .   .  . 

The  opposition  to  ship-money,  to  which  Hampden  owes 
his  fame  in  English  histor}',  began  in  1635.  Before  that 
event,  says  Clarendon,  '  he  was  rather  of  reputation  in  his 
own  country  than  of  public  discourse  or  fame  in  the  kingdom, 
but  then  he  grew  the  argument  of  all  tongues,  every  man 
inquiring  who  and  what  he  was  that  durst  at  his  own  charge 
support  the  liberty  and  property  of  the  kingdom,  and  rescue 
his  country  from  being  made  a  prey  to  the  court.'  In  that 
year  the  second  ship-money  writ  was  issued,  by  which  the  im- 
post was  extended  from  the  maritime  to  the  inland  counties, 
and  an  opportunity  was  thus  afforded  to  test  the  king's  right 
to  demand  it.  A  writ  addressed  to  the  sheriff  of  Buckingham- 
shire, Sir  Peter  Temple,  dated  4  Aug.  1635,  directed  that 
officer  to  raise  4,500/.  from  that  county,  being  the  estimated 
cost  of  a  ship  of  450  tons.  For  his  estates  in  the  parish  of 
Great  Kimble,  Buckinghamshire,  Hampden  was  assessed  at 
3IJ-.  6d.,  for  those  in  the  parish  of  Stoke  Mandeville  at  20s., 
and  without  doubt  similar  sums  for  his  lands  in  other  parishes. 
As  he  possessed  property  in  some  dozen  parishes,  the  total 
amount  of  the  sum  demanded  from  Hampden  must  have  been 
nearer  20/.  than  20s.  Hobbes  snears  at  the  smallness  of  the 
sum.    It  was  not,  however,  the  amount,  but  the  principle  of  the 


JOTTN   HAMPDEN  259 

tax  which  Hampden  contested.  Burke,  in  his  speech  on  Amer- 
ican taxation,  admirably  expresses  this  distinction.  '  Would 
twenty  shillings  have  ruined  Mr.  Hampden's  fortune  ?  No, 
but  the  payment  of  half  twenty  shillings,  on  the  principle  it 
was  demanded,  would  have  made  him  a  slave.'  The  trial  of 
Hampden's  cause  began  towards  the  close  of  1637  before  the 
court  of  exchequer.  The  legality  of  the  tax  was  tested  on  the 
20s.  at  which  Hampden  was  assessed  for  his  Stoke  Mande- 
ville  estate.  The  arguments  of  the  opposing  lawyers  lasted 
from  6  Nov.  to  18  Dec,  Hampden  being  represented  by 
Holborn  and  St.  John.  The  barons  of  the  exchequer,  the 
matter  being  of  great  consequence  and  weight,  '  adjourned 
the  arguing  of  it  into  the  exchequer  chamber,  and  desired 
the  assistance  and  judgment  of  all  the  judges  in  England 
touching  the  same.'  One  after  another  during  the  first  two 
terms  of  1638  the  twelve  judges  delivered  their  opinions. 
Seven  decided  in  favour  of  the  crown,  three  gave  judgment  in 
Hampden's  favour  on  the  main  question,  and  two  others  for 
technical  reasons  also  ranged  themselves  on  his  side.  Judg- 
ment was  finally  given  by  the  exchequer  court  in  favour  of 
the  crown  on  12  June  1638.  The  decision,  as  Clarendon 
points  out,  '  proved  of  more  advantage  and  credit  to  the 
gentleman  condemned  than  to  the  king's  service.'  Ship- 
money  had  been  adjudged  lawful  "  upon  such  grounds  and 
reasons  as  every  stander-by  was  able  to  swear  was  not  law ; ' 
the  reasoning  of  the  judges  '  left  no  man  anything  that  he 
could  call  his  own,'  and  every  man  '  felt  his  own  interest  by 
the  unnecessary  logic  of  that  argument  no  less  concluded  than 
Mr.  Hampden's.'  Henceforth  the  tax  was  paid  with  increas- 
ing reluctance.  Hampden,  on  the  other  hand,  had  gained 
not  merely  the  admiration  of  his  party,  but  the  respect  of  his 
opponents.  '  His  carriage  throughout  was  with  that  rare  tem- 
per and  modesty  that  they  who  watched  him  most  narrowly 


26o  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

to  find  some  advantage  against  his  person,  to  make  him 
less  resolute  in  his  cause,  were  compelled  to  give  him  a  just 
testimony.'  .  .  . 

Hampden  sat  in  the  Short  parliament  as  member  for 
Buckinghamshire,  and  played  a  leading  part  in  its  delibera- 
tions, Hyde,  who  was  himself  a  member,  styles  him  '  the 
most  popular  man  in  the  house.'  .  .  . 

One  of  the  first  subjects  considered  by  the  House  of  Com- 
mons was  ship-money,  and  on  the  1 8  April  it  was  moved  that 
the  records  of  the  judgment  in  Hampden's  case  and  of  all 
proceedings  relating  to  ship-money  should  be  brought  into  the 
house.  Hampden  was  naturally  appointed  one  of  the  com- 
mittee to  peruse  these  records,  and  also  a  member  of  that 
committee  which  was  deputed  to  consult  with  the  lords  '  to 
prevent  innovation  in  matters  of  religion,  and  concerning  the 
property  of  our  goods,  and  liberties,  and  privileges  of  parlia- 
ment.' In  the  great  debate  of  4  May  on  the  question  of 
supply  Hampden  led  the  opposition.  The  king  demanded 
twelve  subsidies  as  the  price  of  the  abandonment  of  ship- 
money,  Hampden,  whom  Macaulay  terms  '  a  greater  master 
of  parliamentary  tactics  than  any  man  of  his  time,'  proposed 
'  that  the  question  might  be  put  "  whether  the  house  would 
consent  to  the  proposition  made  by  the  king  as  it  was  con- 
tained in  the  message,"  which  would  have  been  sure  to  have 
found  a  negative  from  all  who  thought  the  sum  too  great,  or 
were  not  pleased  that  it  should  be  given  in  recompense  of 
ship-money.'  On  the  morning  of  the  next  day  parliament 
was  dissolved,  and  the  dissolution  was  immediately  followed 
by  the  temporary  arrest  of  Hampden  and  other  popular 
leaders.  With  the  view  of  finding  some  evidence  against 
them,  not  only  their  chambers,  but  even  their  pockets  were 
searched.  A  list  exists  of  the  papers  in  Hampden's  posses- 
sion which  were  thus  seized  ;  but,  with  the  exception  of  the 


JOHN   HAMPDEN  261 

letter  of  the  Bishop  of  Lincoln,  nothing  more  compromising 
was  found  than  '  certain  confused  notes  of  the  parliament 
business  written  in  several  paper  books  with  black  lead.'  .  .  . 
In  the  Long  parliament  Hampden  again  represented 
Buckinghamshire.  No  man's  voice  had  a  greater  weight  in 
the  councils  of  the  popular  party,  and  yet  it  is  extremely 
difficult  accurately  to  trace  his  influence  on  their  policy. 
Pym  was  the  recognised  leader  of  the  party,  so  far  as  they 
recognised  a  leader  at  all,  and  Pym,  according  to  Clarendon, 
'  in  private  designings  was  much  governed  by  Mr.  Hampden.' 
Hampden  often  intervened  with  decisive  effect  in  the  debates 
of  the  House  of  Commons.  Yet  while  we  have  elaborate 
reports  of  the  speeches  of  other  parliamentary  leaders,  his 
only  survive  in  a  few  disjointed  sentences  jotted  down  by 
Verney  and  U'Ewes.  Hampden's  speeches  were  not  pub- 
lished, because  he  never  made  set  speeches.  As  Clarendon 
points  out,  he  was  not  an  orator,  but  a  great  debater.  '  He 
was  not  a  man  of  many  words,  and  rarely  began  the  discourse, 
or  made  the  first  entrance  upon  any  business  that  was  assumed  ; 
but  a  very  weighty  speaker,  and,  after  he  had  heard  a  full 
debate  and  observed  how  the  house  was  like  to  be  inclined, 
took  up  the  argument  and  shortly  and  clearly  and  craftily  so 
stated  it  that  he  commonly  conducted  it  to  the  conclusion  he 
desired  ;  -and  if  he  found  he  could  not  do  that,  he  never  was 
without  the  dexterity  to  divert  the  debate  to  another  time,  and 
to  prevent  the  determining  anything  in  the  negative  which 
might  prove  inconvenient  in  the  future.'  D'Ewes  describes 
him  as  '  like  a  subtle  fox '  striving  to  divert  the  house  from 
an  inconvenient  vote,  and  speaks  of  the  '  serpentine  subtlety  ' 
with  which  he  '  put  others  to  move  those  businesses  that  he 
contrived.'  Equally  remarkable  was  his  personal  influence.  He 
was  distinguished  for  "  a  flowing  courtesy  to  all  men.'  He  had 
also  a  way  of  insinuating  his  own  opinions  in  conversation 


262  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

while  he  seemed  to  be  adopting  the  views  of  those  he  was 
addressing,  and  '  a  wonderful  art  of  governing  and  leading 
others  into  his  own  principles  and  inclinations.'  But  above 
all  Hampden's  reputation  for  integrity  and  uprightness  at- 
tracted Falkland  and  many  more  to  his  party.  '  When  this 
parliament  began,'  writes  Clarendon,  '  the  eyes  of  all  men 
were  fixed  on  him  as  their  Patriae  pater,  and  the  pilot  that 
must  steer  their  vessel  through  the  tempests  and  rocks 
that  threatened  it.  And  I  am  persuaded  his  power  and  in- 
terest at  that  time  was  greater  to  do  good  or  hurt  than  any 
man  of  his  rank  hath  had  in  any  time  :  for  his  reputation 
for  honesty  was  universal,  and  his  affections  seemed  so 
publicly  guided  that  no  corrupt  or  private  ends  could  bias 
them.'   ... 

In  Strafford's  trial  Hampden  played  an  active  though  not 
a  prominent  part.  He  was  a  member  of  the  preliminary 
committee  of  seven  appointed  on  ii  Nov.  1640  to  draw  up 
the  indictment,  and  one  of  the  eight  managers  of  the  im- 
peachment on  behalf  of  the  commons.  He  supported  Pym 
in  endeavoring  to  carry  the  impeachment  to  its  legitimate 
conclusion,  and  opposing  the  resolution  to  proceed  by  bill 
of  attainder.   .   .   . 

Yet  while  thus  eager  for  the  punishment  of  the  king's 
evil  ministers,  Hampden,  like  his  party,  had  no  aversion 
to  monarchy,  and  was  anxious  to  lay  the  foundation  of  a 
permanent  agreement  between  the  king  and  his  parliament. 
The  feeling  is  well  expressed  in  the  words  attributed  to  him 
later :  '  Perish  may  that  man  and  his  posterity  that  will  not 
deny  himself  in  the  greatest  part  of  his  fortune  to  make  him 
both  potent  and  beloved  at  home,  and  terrible  to  his  enemies 
abroad,  if  he  will  be  pleased  to  leave  those  evil  counsells  about 
him,  and  take  the  wholesome  advice  of  his  great  counsell  the 
parliament.'   .   .   . 


JOHN  HAMPDEN  263 

On  20  Aug.  the  parliament  appointed  a  committee  to 
attend  the  king  to  Scotland,  and  Hampden  was  one  of  the 
four  commissioners  of  the  commons  ;  .  .  .  By  .the  middle 
of  November  Hampden  was  back  at  Westminster,  zealously 
supporting  the  (irand  Remonstrance,  which  he  described  as 
wholly  true  in  substance,  and  as  a  very  necessary  vindication 
of  the  parliament.  In  the  tumult  which  arose  when  the 
minority  attempted  to  enter  a  protest  against  printing  it, 
Hampden's  presence  of  mind  and  authority  were  conspicu- 
ously displayed.  '  I  thought,'  says  Warwick,  '  \ye  had  all  sat 
in  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death  ;  for  we,  like  Joab's  and 
Abner's  young  men,  had  catch 't  at  each  others  locks,  and 
sheathed  our  swords  in  each  others  bowels,  had  not  the 
sagacity  and  great  calmness  of  Mr.  Hampden  by  a  short 
speech  prevented  it.' 

On  3  Jan.  1642  the  king,  instigated  by  the  news  that  the 
parliamentary  leaders  were  about  to  impeach  the  queen,  sent 
the  attorney-general  to  the  House  of  Lords  to  impeach 
Hampden  and  others,  and  a  sergeant-at-arms  to  the  House  of 
Commons  to  arrest  them.  .  .  .  The  commons  replied  by  voting 
the  seizure  of  the  papers  of  their  members  a  breach  of  privilege, 
authorised  them  to  resist  arrest,  and  refused  to  give  them  up  ; 
but  ordered  them  to  attend  in  their  places  daily  to  answer  any 
legal  charge  brought  against  them.  ...  On  the  afternoon 
of  4  Jan.  the  king  came  personally  to  arrest  the  members, 
but  they,  having  been  warned  in  time,  escaped  by  water  into 
the  city,  and  a  week  later  they  were  brought  back  in  triumph 
to  Westminster.  When  the  news  of  Hampden's  impeachment 
reached  his  constituents,  some  four  thousand  gentlemen  and 
freeholders  of  Buckinghamshire  rode  up  to  London  to  sup- 
port and  vindicate  their  member.  They  presented  one  peti- 
tion to  parliament,  promising  to  defend  its  rights  with  their 
lives,  and  another  to  the  king,  declaring  that  they  had  ever 


264  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

had  good  cause  to  confide  in  Hampden's  loyalty,  and  attribut- 
ing the  charges  against  him  to  the  malice  which  his  zeal  for 
the  service  of  the  king  and  the  state  had  excited  in  the  king's 
enemies.  On  6  Feb.  the  king  announced  his  intention  of 
dropping  the  impeachment,  but  that  was  no  longer  sufficient 
to  satisfy  either  the  accused  members  or  the  kingdom. 
Clarendon  observes  that  after  the  impeachment  Hampden 
'  was  much  altered,  his  nature  and  carriage  seeming  much 
fiercer  than  it  did  before.'  One  sign  of  this  was  his  resolution 
to  obtain  securities  for  the  parliament's  future  safety.  On 
20  Jan.,  when  the  answer  to  a  conciliatory  message  from  the 
king  was  read  in  the  commons,  Hampden  moved  an  addition 
to  desire  the  king  to  put  the  Tower  of  London,  and 
other  forts  of  the  kingdom  with  the  militia  thereof,  into  such 
hands  as  parliament  could  confide  in.  The  king's  refusal  to 
grant  these  demands  made  war  inevitable,  and  on  4  July  the 
two  houses  appointed  a  committee  of  safety,  of  which  Hamp- 
den was  from  the  first  a  leading  member.  He  undertook  to 
raise  a  regiment  of  foot  for  the  parliament,  and  his  '  green 
coats  '  were  soon  one  of  the  best  regiments  in  their  serv- 
ice. Tradition  represents  him  as  first  mustering  his  men 
on  Chalgrove  Field,  where  he  afterwards  received  his  death- 
wound.  .  .  . 

.  .  .  Hampden  continued  with  the  main  body  of  Essex's 
army  struggling  hard  to  preserve  discipline  amongst  his 
unruly  soldiers.  '  We  are  perplexed,'  he  wrote  to  Essex, 
'  with  the  insolence  of  the  soldiers  already  committed,  and 
with  the  apprehension  of  greater.  .  .  If  this  go  on,  the  army 
will  grow  as  odious  to  the  country  as  the  cavaliers.  .  .  . 
Without  martial  law  to  extend  to  the  soldiers  only  it  may 
prove  a  ruin  as  likely  as  a  remedy  to  this  distracted  king- 
dom.' The  celebrated  conversation  between  Cromwell  and 
Hampden  on  the  possibility  of  raising  '  such  men  as  had 


JOPIN   HAMPDEN  265 

the  fear  of  (iod  before  them,'  probably  took  place  about  this 
time.   .  .   . 

Durinf,^  the  winter  of  1642-3  Hampden's  activity  was 
rather  political  than  militar)'.  All  his  energy  and  influence 
were  employed  to  keep  his  party  together  and  to  prevent  the 
sacrifice  of  their  cause  by  the  conclusion  of  a  peace  on  unsat- 
isfactory terms.  'Without  question,'  says  Clarendon,  'when 
he  first  drew  his  sword  he  threw  away  the  scabbard  ;  for 
he  passionately  opposed  the  overture  made  by  the  king  for 
a  treaty  from  Nottingham,  and  as  eminently  any  expedients 
that  might  have  produced  an  accommodation  in  that  at 
Oxford ;  and  was  principally  relied  upon  to  prevent  any 
infusions  which  might  be  made  into  the  Earl  of  Essex 
towards  peace,  or  to  render  them  ineffectual  if  they  were 
made.'   .   .   . 

.  .  .  Early  in  June  Essex  at  last  advanced  on  Oxford,  and 
quartered  his  troops  in  the  district  round  Thame.  They  were 
widely  scattered,  and  Prince  Rupert,  seizing  the  opportunity, 
sallied  from  Oxford  with  a  body  of  about  one  thousand  horse, 
and  fell  on  the  parliamentarian  quarters  at  Postcombe  and 
Chinnor.  A  few  troops,  hastily  collected,  pursued  him,  and 
endeavoured  to  hinder  his  retreat  to  Oxford,  but  Rupert 
turned  and  routed  them  at  Chalgrove  Field  on  18  June.  In 
this  skirmish  Hampden  was  mortally  wounded.   .  .  . 

Hampden's  death,  according  to  Clarendon,  caused  as  great 
a  consternation  in  the  puritan  party  '  as  if  their  whole  army 
had  been  defeated.'  '  Every  honest  man,'  wrote  Colonel 
Arthur  Goodwin,  '  hath  a  share  in  the  loss,  and  will  likewise 
in  the  sorrow.  He  was  a  gallant  man,  an  honest  man,  an 
able  man,  and  take  all,  I  know  not  to  any  living  man  second.' 
'  Never  kingdom  received  a  greater  loss  in  one  subject,'  wrote 
Anthony  Nichol.  'The  loss  of  Colonel  Hampden,'  said  a 
newspaper  article  published  the  week  after  his  death,  '  goeth 


266  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH   HISTORY 

near  the  heart  of  eveiy  man  that  loves  the  good  of  his  king 
and  countr)%  and  makes  some  conceive  Uttle  content  to  be  at 
the  army  now  he  is  gone.  .  .  .  The  memory  of  this  deceased 
colonel  is  such  that  in  no  age  to  come  but  it  will  more  and 
more  be  had  in  honour  and  esteem,'  .  .  . 


Number  4'/ 
DEFENSE  OF  THE  EARL  OF  STRAFFORD 

Excerpts  from  speech  delivered  in  the  House  of  Lords,  April  13,  1641. 
Chauncey  A.  Goodrich,  Select  British  Eloquence,  pp.  11-14. 
For  eighteen  days  Thomas  Wentworth,  Ear!  of  Strafford,  had  stood  be- 
fore his  accusers  in  Westminster  Hall  defending  himself  against  the  charges 
contained  in  the  Articles  of  Impeachment.  On  the  last  day  of  the  trial  he 
summed  up  his  defense  in  the  speech  a  portion  of  which  is  here  given. 

My  Lords,  — 

This  day  I  stand  before  you  charged  with  high  treason. 
The  burden  of  the  charge  is  heavy,  yet  far  the  more  so 
because  it  hath  borrowed  the  authority  of  the  House  of  Com- 
mons. If  tJicy  were  not  interested,  I  might  expect  a  no  less 
easy,  than  I  do  a  safe,  issue.  But  let  neither  my  weakness 
plead  my  innocence,  nor  their  power  my  guilt.  If  your  Lord- 
ships will  conceive  of  my  defenses,  as  they  are  in  themselves, 
without  reference  to  either  party  —  and  I  shall  endeavor  so 
to  present  them  —  I  hope  to  go  hence  as  clearly  justified  by 
you,  as  I  now  am  in  the  testimony  of  a  good  conscience 
by  myself.   .  .   . 

As  to  this  charge  of  treason,  I  must  and  do  acknowledge, 
that  if  I  had  the  least  suspicion  of  my  own  guilt,  I  would  save 
your  Lordships  the  pains.  I  would  cast  the  first  stone.  I 
would  pass  the  first  sentence  of  condemnation  against  myself. 
And  whether  it  be  so  or  not,  I  now  refer  to  your  Lordships' 
judgment  and  deliberation.    You,  and  you  only,  under  the 


DEFENSE  OF  THE  EARL  OF  STRAFFORD   267 

care  and  protection  of  my  gracious  master,  are  my  judges. 
Under  favor,  none  of  the  Commons  are  my  peers,  nor  can 
they  be  my  judges.  I  shall  ever  celebrate  the  providence 
and  wisdom  of  your  noble  ancestors,  who  have  put  the  keys 
of  life  and  death,  so  far  as  concerns  you  and  your  posterity, 
into  your  own  hands.  None  but  your  ozvn  selves,  my  Lords, 
know  the  rate  of  your  noble  blood :  no7ie  bnt  yourselves  must 
hold  the  balance  in  disposing  of  the  same.   .   .   . 

The  articles  against  me  refer  to  expressions  and  aetions  — 
my  expressions  either  in  Ireland  or  in  England,  my  actions 
either  before  or  after  these  late  stirs. 

(i.)  Some  of  the  expressions  referred  to  were  uttered  in 
private,  and  I  do  protest  against  their  being  drawn  to  my 
injury  in  this  place.  If,  my  Lords,  words  spoken  to  friends 
in  familiar  discourse,  spoken  at  one's  table,  spoken  in  one's 
chamber,  spoken  in  one's  sick-bed,  spoken,  perhaps,  to  gain 
better  reason,  to  gain  one's  self  more  clear  light  and  judg- 
ment by  reasoning  —  if  these  things  shall  be  brought  against 
a  man  as  treason,  this  (under  favor)  takes  away  the  comfort 
of  all  human  society.  By  this  means  we  shall  be  debarred 
from  speaking  —  the  principal  joy  and  comfort  of  hfe  —  with 
wise  and  good  men,  to  become  wiser  and  better  ourselves.  If 
these  things  be  strained  to  take  away  life,  and  honor,  and 
all  that  is  desirable,  tJiis  zvill  be  a  silent  ivorld !  A  city  will 
become  a  hermitage,  and  sheep  will  be  found  among  a  crowd 
and  press  of  people  !  No  man  will  dare  to  impart  his  solitary 
thoughts  or  opinions  to  his  friend  and  neighbor ! 

Other  expressions  have  been  urged  against  me,  which  were 
used  in  giving  counsel  to  the  King.  My  Lords,  these  words 
were  not  wantonly  or  unnecessarily  spoken,  or  whispered  in 
a  corner ;  they  were  spoken  in  full  council,  when,  by  the  duty 
of  my  oath,  I  was  obliged  to  speak  according  to  my  heart  and 
conscience  in  all  things  concerning  the  King's  service.    If  I 


268  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

had  forborne  to  speak  what  I  conceived  to  be  for  the  benefit 
of  the  King  and  the  people,  I  had  been  perjured  toward 
Almighty  God.  And  for  delivering  my  mind  openly  and 
freely,  shall  I  be  in  danger  of  my  life  as  a  traitor  ?  If  that 
necessity  be  put  upon  me,  I  thank  God,  by  his  blessing,  I 
have  learned  not  to  stand  in  fear  of  him  who  can  only  kill 
the  body.  If  the  question  be  whether  I  must  be  traitor  to 
man  or  perjured  to  God,  I  will  be  faithful  to  my  Creator.  And 
whatsoever  shall  befall  me  from  popular  rage  or  my  own 
weakness,  I  must  leave  it  to  that  almighty  Being,  and  to  the 
justice  and  honor  of  my  judges. 

My  Lords,  I  conjure  you  not  to  make  yourselves  so  unhappy 
as  to  disable  your  Lordships  and  your  children,  from  under- 
taking the  great  charge  and  trust  of  this  Commonwealth. 
You  inherit  that  trust  from  your  fathers.  You  are  born  to 
great  thoughts.  You  are  nursed  for  the  weighty  employments 
of  the  kingdom.  But  if  it  be  once  admitted  that  a  counselor, 
for  delivering  his  opinion  with  others  at  the  council  board, 
candicU  et  caste,  with  candor  and  purity  of  motive,  under  an 
oath  of  secrecy  and  faithfulness,  shall  be  brought  into  ques- 
tion, upon  some  misapprehension  or  ignorance  of  law  —  if 
every  word  that  he  shall  speak  from  sincere  and  noble  inten- 
tions shall  be  drawn  against  him  for  the  attainting  of  him, 
his  children  and  posterity  —  I  know  not  (under  favor  I  speak 
it)  any  wise  or  noble  person  of  fortune  who  will,  upon  such 
perilous  and  unsafe  terms,  adventure  to  be  counselor  to  the 
King,  Therefore  I  beseech  your  Lordships  so  to  look  on 
me,  that  my  misfortune  may  not  bring  an  inconvenience  to 
yourselves.  And  though  my  words  were  not  so  advised  and 
discreet,  or  so  well  weighed  as  they  ought  to  have  been,  yet  I 
trust  your  Lordships  are  too  honorable  and  just  to  lay  them  to 
my  charge  as  High  Treason,  Opinions  may  make  a  heretic, 
hit  tJiat  they  make  a  traitor  I ha-oe  never  heai'd  till  now.  .  .  . 


DEFENSE  OF  THE  EARL  OF  STRAFFORD      269 

It  is  hard,  my  Lords,  to  be  questioned  upon  a  law  which 
cannot  be  shown  !  Where  hath  this  fire  lain  hid  for  so  many 
hundred  years,  without  smoke  to  discover  it,  till  it  thus  bursts 
forth  to  consume  me  and  my  children  ?  My  Lords,  do  we  not 
live  under  laws  ?  and  must  we  be  punished  by  laws  before 
they  are  made  ?  Far  better  were  it  to  li\-e  by  no  laws  at  all ; 
but  to  be  governed  by  those  characters  of  virtue  and  discre- 
tion, which  Nature  hath  stamped  upon  us,  than  to  put  this 
necessity  of  divination  upon  a  man,  and  to  accuse  him  of  a 
breach  of  law  before  it  is  a  laio  at  all !  If  a  waterman  upon 
the  Thames  split  his  boat  by  grating  upon  an  anchor,  and  the 
same  have  no  buoy  appended  to  it,  the  owner  of  the  anchor 
is  to  pay  the  loss  ;  but  if  a  buoy  be  set  there,  ever)^  man 
passeth  upon  his  own  peril.  Now  where  is  the  mark,  where 
is  the  token  set  upon  the  crime,  to  declare  it  to  be  high 
treason  ?   .  .  . 

It  is  now  full  two  hundred  and  forty  years  since  any  man 
was  touched  for  this  alleged  crime  to  this  height  before  my- 
self. Let  us  not  awaken  those  sleeping  lions  to  our  destruc- 
tion, by  taking  up  a  few  musty  records  that  have  lain  by  the 
walls  for  so  many  ages,  forgotten  or  neglected. 

My  Lords,  what  is  my  present  misfortune  may  be  forever 
yours  !  It  is  not  the  smallest  part  of  my  grief  that  not  the 
crime  of  treason,  but  my  other  sins,  which  are  exceeding 
many,  have  brought  me  to  this  bar ;  and,  except  your  Lord- 
ships' wisdom  provide  against  it,  the  shedding  of  my  blood 
may  make  way  for  the  tracing  out  of  yours.     You,   your 

ESTATES,    YOUR    POSTERITY,    LIE    AT    THE    STAKE  ! 

For  my  poor  self,  if  it  were  not  for  your  Lordships'  inter- 
est, and  the  interest  of  a  saint  in  heaven,  who  hath  left  me 
here  two  pledges  on  earth  ...  I  should  never  take  the  pains  to 
keep  up  this  ruinous  cottage  of  mine.  It  is  loaded  with  such 
infirmities,  that  in  truth  1  ha\e  no  great  pleasure  to  carry  it 


270  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

about  with  me  any  longer.  Nor  could  I  ever  leave  it  at  a 
fitter  time  than  this,  when  I  hope  that  the  better  part  of  the 
world  would  perhaps  think  that  by  my  misfortunes  I  had 
given  a  testimony  of  my  integrity  to  my  God,  my  King,  and 
my  country,  I  thank  God,  I  count  not  the  afflictions  of  the 
present  life  to  be  compared  to  that  glory  which  is  to  be  re- 
vealed in  the  time  to  come  ! 

My  Lords  !  my  Lords  !  my  Lords  !  something  more  I  had 
intended  to  say,  but  my  voice  and  my  spirit  fail  me.  Only 
I  do  in  all  humility  and  submission  cast  myself  down  at 
your  Lordships'  feet,  and  desire  that  I  may  be  a  beacon  to 
keep  you  from  shipwreck.  Do  not  put  such  rocks  in  your 
own  way,  which  no  prudence,  no  circumspection  can  eschew 
or  satisfy,  but  by  your  utter  ruin  ! 

And  so,  my  Lords,  even  so,  with  all  tranquillity  of  mind,  I 
submit  myself  to  your  decision.  And  whether  your  judgment 
in  my  case  —  I  wish  it  were  not  the  case  of  you  all  —  be  for 
life  or  for  death,  it  shall  be  righteous  in  my  eyes,  and  shall  be 
received  with  a  Te  Deiim  latcdannis,  we  give  God  the  praise. 


Nuinder  4.8 
LETTERS   OF   CHARLES   I 

Edward  P.  Cheyney.    Readings  in  Englis/i  History,  pp.  470-471,  472. 

I 

LETTER  TO  THE  EARL  OF  STRAFFORD  (APRIL  23,  1641) 

Strafford  : 

The  misfortune  that  is  fallen  upon  you  by  the  strange 
mistaking  and  conjuncture  of  these  times,  being  such  that 
I  must  lay  by  the  thought  of  employing  you  hereafter  in  my 


LETTERS  OF  CHARLES  I  271 

affairs  ;  yet  I  cannot  satisfy  n'i)sclf  in  honor  or  conscience 
without  assuring  you  (now  in  the  midst  of  your  troubles)  that 
upon  the  word  of  a  king  you  shall  not  suffer  in  life,  honor, 
or  fortune.  This  is  but  justice,  and  therefore  a  very  mean 
reward  from  a  master  to  so  faithful  and  able  a  servant  as 
you  have  showed  yourself  to  be  ;  yet  it  is  as  much  as  I  con- 
ceive the  present  times  will  permit,  though  none  shall  hinder 
me  from  being. 

Your  constant,  faithful  friend, 

Charles  R. 


II 

LETTER  TO   THE    HOUSE    OF   LORDS  (WHITEHALL, 

MAY   11,   1641) 
My  Lords  : 

I  did  yesterday  satisfy  the  justice  of  the  kingdom,  by  pass- 
ing of  the  bill  of  attainder  against  the  earl  of  Strafford  ;  but 
mercy  being  as  inherent  and  inseparable  to  a  king  as  justice, 
I  desire  at  this  time,  in  some  measure,  to  show  that  likewise, 
by  suffering  that  unfortunate  man  to  fulfill  the  natural  course 
of  his  life  in  a  close  imprisonment,  yet  so  that,  if  ever  he 
make  the  least  offer  to  escape,  or  offer,  directly  or  indirecth', 
to  meddle  with  any  sort  of  public  business,  especially  with 
me,  either  by  message  or  letter,  it  shall  cost  him  his  life, 
without  further  press. 

This,  if  it  may  be  done  without  the  discontent  of  my 
people,  will  be  an  unspeakable  comfort  to  me  ;  to  which  end, 
as  in  the  first  place,  I  b\-  this  letter  do  earnestly  desire  your 
approbation  ;  and  to  endear  it  the  more,  have  chosen  him  to 
carry,  that  of  all  your  house  is  inost  dear  to  me  ;  so  I  do 
desire,  that  by  a  conference  you  will  endeavor  to  give  the 
House  of  Commons  contentment ;  likewise  assuring  you,  that 


2  72  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

the  exercise  is  no  more  pleasing  to  me  than  to  see  both 
Houses  of  parhament  consent,  for  my  sake,  that  I  should 
moderate  the  severity  of  the  law  in  so  important  a  case.  I 
will  not  say  that  your  complying  with  me  in  this  my  pre- 
tended mercy  shall  make  me  more  willing,  but  certainly 
it  will  make  me  more  cheerful  in  granting  your  just  griev- 
ances ;  but  if  no  less  than  his  life  can  satisfy  my  people,  I 
must  say,  fiat  jnstitia. 

Thus  again  earnestly  recommending  the  consideration  of 
my  intentions  to  you,  I  rest. 

Your  unalterable  and  affectionate  friend, 

Charles  R. 

If  he  nmst  die,  it  were  charity  to  reprieve  him  till  Saturday. 


Number  4g 
THE  DEATH   OF   CHARLES   I 

Andrew  Marvel.    From  the  Horatian  Ode  upon  Cromwell's  Return  from 
Ireland. 

He  nothing  common  did,  or  mean, 
Upon  that  memorable  scene. 

But  with  his  keener  eye 

The  axe's  edge  did  try ; 

Nor  called  the  gods,  with  vulgar  spite, 
To  vindicate  his  helpless  right ; 

But  bowed  his  comely  head 

Down,  as  upon  a  bed. 


OLIVER  CROMWELL  273 

Number  50 

OLIVER  CROMWELL 
(A  Royalist  View) 

Edward  Hyde,  Earl  of  Clarendon.  History  of  the  Rebellion  and  Civil 
Wars  in  England,  Book  XV,  Sections  147-149,  152,  156. 
Edward  Ilyde,  later  Earl  of  Clarendon,  was  one  of  the  chief  advisers  of 
Charles  I  during  the  Civil  War.  Ills  "  History  of  the  Rebellion  and  Civil 
Wars  in  England  "  is  one  of  the  best  sources  of  information  for  that  period. 
Especially  interesting  are  his  character  sketches  of  the  eminent  men  who 
took  part  in  the  struggle,  although  his  sympathy  with  the  royalist  cause  made 
it  impossible  for  him  to  do  full  justice  to  the  leaders  of  the  opposing  party. 

147.  He  was  one  of  those  men,  qjios  vituperare  ne  iniinici 
qiiidcm  possniit  nisi  nt  siniul  laiidciit ;  ^  for  he  could  never 
have  done  half  that  mischieve  without  great  parts  of  courage 
and  industry  and  judgment.  And  he  must  have  had  a  wonder- 
ful understanding  in  the  natures  and  humours  of  men,  and  as 
great  a  dexterity  in  applying  them,  who  from  a  private  and 
obscure  birth,  (though  of  a  good  family,)  without  interest  of 
estate,  alliance  or  friendships,  could  raise  himself  to  such  a 
height,  and  compound  and  knead  such  opposite  and  contra- 
dictory tempers,  humours,  and  interests,  into  a  consistence 
that  contributed  to  his  designs  and  to  their  own  destruction  ; 
whilst  himself  grew  insensibly  powerful  enough  to  cut  off 
those  by  whom  he  had  climbed,  in  the  instant  that  they  pro- 
jected to  demolish  their  own  building.  What  Velleius  Pater- 
culus  said  of  Cinna  may  very  justly  be  said  of  him,  Aitsitin 
enni,  qucB  nemo  anderet  bonus  ;  pctfecissc,  qucB  a  nnllo  nisi 
fortissimo  perfici  possejit?  Without  doubt,  no  man  with  more 

1  Whom  not  even  his  enemies  could  censure  without  at  the  same  time  praising 
him. 

-  He  had  the  courage  to  do  such  things  as  no  good  man  would  dare  to  do;  he 
did  such  things  as  could  be  done  by  none  but  a  very  brave  man. 


2  74  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

wickedness  ever  attempted  any  thing,  or  brought  to  pass  what 
he  desired  more  wickedly,  more  in  the  face  and  contempt 
of  religion  and  moral  honesty ;  yet  wickedness  as  great  as 
his  could  never  have  accomplished  those  trophies,  without 
the  assistance  of  a  great  spirit,  an  admirable  circumspection 
and  sagacity,  and  a  most  magnanimous  resolution. 

148.  When  he  appeared  first  in  the  Parliament,  he  seemed 
to  have  a  person  in  no  degree  gracious,  no  ornament  of  dis- 
course, none  of  those  talents  which  use  to  reconcile  the  affec- 
tions of  the  standers  by  :  yet  as  he  grew  into  place  and 
authority,  his  parts  seemed  to  be  renew[ed],  as  if  he  had 
concealed  faculties  till  he  had  occasion  to  use  them  ;  and 
when  he  was  to  act  the  part  of  a  great'  man,  he  did  it  without 
any  indecency  through  the  want  of  custom. 

149,  After  he  was  confirmed  and  invested  Protector  by  The 
Hinnblc  Petition  and  Advice  he  consulted  with  very  few  upon 
any  action  of  importance,  nor  communicated  any  enterprise 
he  resolved  upon  with  more  than  those  who  were  to  have 
principal  parts  in  the  execution  of  it ;  nor  to  them  sooner 
than  was  absolutely  necessary.  What  he  once  resolved,  in 
which  he  was  not  rash,  he  would  not  be  dissuaded  from,  nor 
endure  any  contradiction  of  his  power  and  authority,  but  ex- 
torted obedience  from  them  who  were  not  willing  to  yield  it. 

152.  To  reduce  three  nations,  which  perfectly  hated  him,  to 
an  entire  obedience  to  all  his  dictates  ;  to  awe  and  govern  those 
nations  by  an  army  that  was  indevoted  to  him  and  wished 
his  ruin  ;  was  an  instance  of  a  very  prodigious  address.  But 
his  greatness  at  home  was  but  a  shadow  of  the  glory  he 
had  abroad.  It  was  hard  to  discover  which  feared  him  most, 
France,  Spain,  or  the  Low  Countries,  where  his  friendship 
was  current  at  the  value  he  put  upon  it.  And  as  they  did 
all  sacrifice  their  honour  and  their  interest  to  his  pleasure,  so 


TO  THE  T.ORD  GENERAL  CROMWELT,         275 

there  is  nothing  he  could  have  demanded  that  either  of  them 
would  have  denied  him.   .   .   . 

•  • 

156.  He  was  not  a  man  of  blood,  and  totally  declined 
Machiavell's  method,  which  prescribes,  upon  any  alteration 
of  a  government,  as  a  thing  absolutely  necessary,  to  cut  off 
all  the  heads  of  those,  and  extirpate  their  families,  who  are 
friends  to  the  old  [one].  And  it  was  confidently  reported,  that 
in  the  council  of  officers  it  was  more  than  once  proposed 
that  there  might  be  a  general  massacre  of  all  the  royal 
party,  as  the  only  expedient  to  secure  the  government,  but 
Cromwell  would  never  consent  to  it ;  it  may  be,  out  of  too 
much  contempt  of  his  enemies.  In  a  word,  as  he  had  all  the 
wickedness  against  which  damnation  is  denounced,  ...  so 
he  had  some  virtues  which  have  caused  the  memory  of  some 
men  in  all  ages  to  be  celebrated  ;  and  he  will  be  looked 
upon  by  posterity  as  a  brave  bad  man. 


Number  5/ 

TO  THE   LORD   GENERAL  CROMWELL 

(A  Puritan  View) 
John  Milton. 

Cromwell,  our  chief  of  men,  who  through  a  cloud 
Not  of  war  only,  but  detractions  rude, 
Guided  by  faith  and  matchless  fortitude, 
To  peace  and  truth  thy  glorious  way  hast  ploughed. 

And  on  the  neck  of  crowned  Fortune  proud 

Hast  reared  God's  trophies,  and  his  work  pursued. 
While  Darwen  stream,  with  blood  of  Scots  imbrued, 
And  Dunbar  field,  resounds  thy  praises  loud, 


276  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

And  Worcester's  laureate  wreath  :  yet  much  remains 
To  conquer  still ;  Peace  hath  her  victories 
No  less  renowned  than  War :  new  foes  arise, 

Threatening  to  bind  our  souls  with  secular  chains. 
Help  us  to  save  free  conscience  from  the  paw 
Of  hireling  wolves,  whose  Gospel  is  their  maw. 

Number  ^2 

OLIVER  CROMWELL 

(A  Modern  View) 

Samuel  Rawson  Gardiner.   Oliver  Cromwell,  pp.  210-21 1. 

,  .  .  Oliver's  claim  to  greatness  can  be  tested  by  the  un- 
doubted fact  that  his  character  receives  higher  and  wider  ap- 
preciation as  the  centuries  pass  by.  The  limitations  on  his 
nature  —  the  one-sidedness  of  his  religious  zeal,  the  mistakes 
of  his  policy  —  are  thrust  out  of  sight,  the  nobility  of  his 
motives,  the  strength  of  character,  the  breadth  of  his  intellect, 
force  themselves  on  the  minds  of  generations  for  which  the  ob- 
jects for  which  he  strove  have  been  for  the  most  part  attained, 
though  often  in  a  different  fashion  from  that  in  which  he 
placed  them  before  himself.  Even  those  who  refuse  to  waste 
a  thought  on  his  spiritual  aims  remember  with  gratitude  his 
constancy  of  effort  to  make  England  great  by  land  and  sea ; 
and  it  would  be  well  for  them  also  to  be  reminded  of  his  no 
less  constant  efforts  to  make  England  worthy  of  greatness. 

Of  the  man  himself,  it  is  enough  to  repeat  the  words  of 
one  who  knew  him  well :  "  His  body  was  well  compact  and 
strong;  his  stature  under  six  feet — I  believe  about  two  inches 
—  his  head  so  shaped  as  you  might  see  it  a  store-house  and 
shop  both  —  of  a  vast  treasury  of  natural  parts.    His  temper 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  CHARLES  H  277 

exceeding  fiery,  as  I  have  known  ;  but  the  flame  of  it  kept 
down  for  the  most  part,  or  soon  allayed  with  those  moral  en- 
dowments he  had.  He  was  naturally  compassionate  towards 
objects  in  distress,  even  to  an  effeminate  measure  ;  though 
God  had  made  him  a  heart  wherein  was  left  little  room  for  any 
fear  but  was  due  to  Himself,  of  which  there  was  a  large  pro- 
portion ^-  yet  did  he  exceed  in  tenderness  towards  sufferers. 
A  larger  soul,  I  think,  hath  seldom  dwelt  in  a  house  of  clay." 


Ntuiibcr  5J 
THE  CHARACTER  OF  CHARLES  II 

J.  R.  Green.   A  Short  History  of  the  English  People,  illustrated    edition, 
Vol.  Ill,  pp.  1351-1358- 

The  thunder  of  the  Dutch  guns  in  the  Medway  and  the 
Thames  woke  England  to  a  bitter  sense  of  its  degradation. 
The  dream  of  loyalty  was  over.  "  Everybody  now-a-days," 
Pepys  tells  us,  "  reflect  upon  Oliver  and  commend  him,  what 
brave  things  he  did,  and  made  all  the  neighbour  princes  fear 
him."  But  Oliver's  successor  was  coolly  watching  this  shame 
and  discontent  of  his  people  with  the  one  aim  of  turning  it 
to  his  own  advantage.  To  Charles  the  Second  the  degrada- 
tion of  England  was  only  a  move  in  the  political  game  which 
he  was  playing,  a  game  played  with  so  consummate  a  secrecy 
and  skill  that  it  deceived  not  only  the  closest  observers  of  his 
own  day  but  still  misleads  historians  of  ours.  What  his  sub- 
jects saw  in  their  King  was  a  pleasant,  brown-faced  gentle- 
man playing  with  his  spaniels,  or  drawing  caricatures  of  his 
ministers,  or  flinging  cakes  to  the  water-fowl  in  the  park.  To 
all  outer  seeming  Charles  was  the  most  consummate  of  idlers. 
"  He  delighted,"  says  one  of  his  courtiers,  "  in  a  bewitching 


278  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

kind  of  pleasure  called  sauntering."  The  business-like  Pepys 
soon  discovered  that  "the  King  do  mind  nothing  but  pleas- 
ures, and  hates  the  very  sight  or  thoughts  of  business."  He 
only  laughed  when  Tom  Killigrew  frankly  told  him  that  badly 
as  things  were  going  there  was  one  man  whose  industry  could 
soon  set  them  right,  "and  this  is  one  Charles  Stuart,  who  now 
spends  his  time  in  using  his  lips  about  the  Court,  and  hath 
no  other  employment. "  That  Charles  had  great  natural  parts 
no  one  doubted.  In  his  earlier  days  of  defeat  and  danger  he 
showed  a  cool  courage  and  presence  of  mind  which  never 
failed  him  in  the  many  perilous  moments  of  his  reign.  His 
temper  was  pleasant  and  social,  his  manners  perfect,  and  there 
was  a  careless  freedom  and  courtesy  in  his  address  which 
won  over  everybody  who  came  into  his  presence.  His  educa- 
tion indeed  had  been  so  grossly  neglected  that  he  could  hardly 
read  a  plain  Latin  book  ;  but  his  natural  quickness  and  in- 
telligence showed  itself  in  his  pursuit  of  chymistry  and  anat- 
omy, and  in  the  interest  he  showed  in  the  scientific  inquiries 
of  the  Royal  Society.  Like  Peter  the  Great  his  favourite  study 
was  that  of  naval  architecture,  and  he  piqued  himself  on  be- 
ing a  clever  ship-builder.  He  had  some  little  love  too  for  art 
and  poetry,  and  a  taste  for  music.  But  his  shrewdness  and 
vivacity  showed  itself  most  in  his  endless  talk.  He  was  fond 
of  telling  stories,  and  he  told  them  with  a  good  deal  of  grace 
and  humour.  His  humour  indeed  never  forsook  him  :  even 
on  his  death-bed  he  turned  to  the  weeping  courtiers  around 
and  whispered  an  apology  for  having  been  so  unconscionable 
a  time  in  dying.  He  held  his  own  fairly  with  the  wits  of  his 
Court,  and  bandied  repartees  on  equal  terms  with  Sedley  or 
Buckingham.  Even  Rochester  in  his  merciless  epigram  was 
forced  to  own  that  Charles  "  never  said  a  foolish  thing."  He 
had  inherited  in  fact  his  grandfather's  gift  of  pithy  sayings,  and 
his  habitual  irony  often  gave  an  amusing  turn  to  them.   When 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  CHARLES  H  279 

his  brother,  the  most  unpopular  man  in  I'lngland,  solemnly 
warned  him  of  plots  against  his  life,  Charles  laughingly  bade 
him  set  all  fear  aside.  "They  will  never  kill  me,  James," 
he  said,  "to  make  you  king."  But  courage  and  wit  and 
ability  seemed  to  have  been  bestowed  on  him  in  vain.  Charles 
hated  business.  He  gave  to  outer  observers  no  sign  of 
ambition.  .  .  .  Gambling  and  drinking  helped  to  fill  up 
the  vacant  moments  when  he  could  no  longer  toy  with  his 
favourites  or  bet  at  Newmarket.  .  .  . 

It  was  difficult  for  h^nglishmen  to  believe  that  any  real 
danger  to  liberty  could  come  from  an  idler  and  a  voluptuary 
such  as  Charles  the  Second.  But  in  the  very  difficulty  of  be- 
lieving this  lay  half  the  King's  strength.  He  had  in  fact  no 
taste  whatever  for  the  despotism  of  the  Stuarts  who  had  gone 
before  him.  His  shrewdness  laughed  his  grandfather's  theory 
of  Divine  Right  down  the  wind.  ...  He  was  too  humorous  a 
man  to  care  for  the  pomp  and  show  of  power,  and  too  good- 
natured  a  man  to  play  the  tyrant.  But  he  believed  as  firmly 
as  his  father  or  his  grandfather  had  believed  in  the  older  pre- 
rogatives of  the  Crown  ;  and,  like  them,  he  looked  on  Parlia- 
ments with  suspicion  and  jealousy.  "He  told  Lord  Essex," 
Burnet  says,  "  that  he  did  not  wish  to  be  like  a  Grand 
Signior,  with  some  mutes  about  him,  and  bags  of  bowstrings 
to  strangle  men  ;  but  he  did  not  think  he  was  a  king  so  long 
as  a  company  of  fellows  were  looking  into  his  actions,  and 
examining  his  ministers  as  well  as  his  accounts."  "  A  king," 
he  thought,  "  who  might  be  checked,  and  have  his  ministers 
called  to  an  account,  was  but  a  king  in  name."  In  other  words, 
he  had  no  settled  plan  of  tyranny,  but  he  meant  to  mle  as 
independently  as  he  could,  and  from  the  beginning  to  the 
end  of  his  reign  there  never  was  a  moment  when  he  was  not 
doing  something  to  carry  out  his  aim.  But  he  carried  it  out 
in  a  tentative,  irregular  fashion  which  it  was  as  hard  to  detect 


28o  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

as  to  meet.  Whenever  there  was  any  strong  opposition  he 
gave  way.  If  popular  feeling  demanded  the  dismissal  of  his 
ministers,  he  dismissed  them.  If  it  protested  against  his  dec- 
laration of  indulgence,  he  recalled  it.  If  it  cried  for  victims 
in  the  frenzy  of  the  Popish  Plot,  he  gave  it  victims  till  the 
frenzy  was  at  an  end.  It  was  easy  for  Charles  to  yield  and 
to  wait,  and  just  as  easy  for  him  to  take  up  the  thread  of  his 
purpose  again  the  moment  the  pressure  was  over.  The  one 
fixed  resolve  which  overrode  every  other  thought  in  the  King's 
mind  was  a  resolve  "not  to  set  out  on  his  travels  again."  His 
father  had  fallen  through  a  quarrel  with  the  two  Houses,  and 
Charles  was  determined  to  remain  on  good  terms  with  the 
Parliament  till  he  was  strong  enough  to  pick  a  quarrel  to  his 
profit.  He  treated  the  Lords  with  an  easy  familiarity  which 
robbed  opposition  of  its  seriousness.  "Their  debates  amused 
him,"  he  said  in  his  indolent  way;  and  he  stood  chatting  be- 
fore the  fire  while  peer  after  peer  poured  invectives  on  his 
ministers.  .  .  .  Where  bribes,  flattery,  and  management 
failed,  Charles  was  content  to  yield  and  to  wait  till  his  time 
came  again.  Meanwhile  he  went  on  patiently  gathering  up 
what  fragments  of  the  old  royal  power  still  survived,  and 
availing  himself  of  whatever  new  resources  offered  themselves. 

Number  §4 
THE  FIRE  IN  LONDON 

Samuel   Pepys.    Diary,  Vol.  VI,  pp.  174-1S1.    Edition  of  Rev.  Mynors 
Bright. 
Samuel  Pepys,  the  author  of  the  famous  Diary  from  which  this  is  taken, 
was  an  eyewitness  of  the  scenes  he  describes. 

2nd  (Lord's-day).  Some  of  our  mayds  sitting  up  late  last 
night  to  get  things  ready  against  our  feast  to-day,  Jane  called 
us  up  about  three  in  the  morning,  to  tell  us  of  a  great  fire 


THE  FIRE  IX   LONDON  28 1 

they  saw  in  the  City.  So  I  rose  and  slipped  on  my  night- 
govvne,  and  went  to  her  window,  and  thought  it  to  be  on  the 
back-side  of  Marke-lane  at  the  farthest ;  but,  being  unused  to 
such  fires  as  followed,  I  thought  it  far  enough  off ;  and  so 
went  to  bed  again  and  to  sleep.  About  seven  rose  again  to 
dress  myself,  and  there  looked  out  at  the  window,  and  saw  the 
fire  not  so  much  as  it  was  and  further  off.  So  to  my  closett  to  set 
things  to  rights  after  yesterday's  cleaning.  By  and  by  Jane 
comes  and  tells  me  that  she  hears  that  above  300  houses  have 
been  burned  down  to-night  by  the  fire  we  saw,  and  that  it  is 
now  burning  down  all  Fish-street,  by  London  Bridge.  So  I 
made  myself  ready  presently,  and  walked  to  the  Tower,  and 
there  got  up  upon  one  of  the  high  places,  Sir  J.  Robinson's 
little  son  going  up  with  me  ;  and  there  I  did  see  the  houses 
at  that  end  of  the  bridge  all  on  fire,  and  an  infinite  great  fire 
on  this  and  the  other  side  the  end  of  the  bridge  ;  which, 
among  other  people,  did  trouble  me  for  poor  little  Michell 
and  our  Sarah  on  the  bridge.  So  down,  with  my  heart  full  of 
trouble,  to  the  Lieutenant  of  the  Tower,  who  tells  me  that  it 
begun  this  morning  in  the  King's  baker's  house  in  Pudding- 
lane,  and  that  it  hath  burned  St.  Magnus's  Church  and  most 
part  of  F'ish-street  already.  So  I  down  to  the  water-side,  and 
there  got  a  boat  and  through  bridge,  and  there  saw  a  lamen- 
table fire.  Poor  Michell 's  house,  as  far  as  the  Old  Swan, 
already  burned  that  way,  and  the  fire  running  further,  that  in 
a  very  little  time  it  got  as  far  as  the  Steele-yard,  while  I  was 
there.  Everybody  endeavouring  to  remove  their  goods,  and 
flinging  into  the  river  or  bringing  them  into  lighters  that  lay 
off ;  poor  people  staying  in  their  houses  as  long  as  till  the 
very  fire  touched  them,  and  then  running  into  boats,  or  clam- 
bering from  one  pair  of  stairs  by  the  water-side  to  another. 
And  among  other  things,  the  poor  pigeons,  I  perceive,  were 
loth  to  leave  their  houses,  but  hovered  about  the  windows 


282  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

and  balconys  till  they,  some  of  them,  burned  their  wings,  and 
fell  down.  Having  staid,  and  in  an  hour's  time  seen  the  fire 
rage  every  way,  and  nobody,  to  my  sight,  endeavouring  to 
quench  it,  but  to  remove  their  goods,  and  leave  all  to  the 
fire,  and  having  seen  it  get  as  far  as  the  Steele-yard,  and 
the  wind  mighty  high  and  driving  it  into  the  City  ;  and  every 
thing,  after  so  long  a  drought,  proving  combustible,  even  the 
ver}'  stones  of  churches,  and  among  other  things  the  poor 

steeple  by  which  pretty  Mrs. lives,  and  whereof  my  old 

school-fellow  Elborough  is  parson,  taken  fire  in  the  very  top, 
and  there  burned  till  it  fell  down  :  I  to  White  Hall  .  .  . ; 
and  there  up  to  the  King's  closett  in  the  Chappell,  where 
people  came  about  me,  and  I  did  give  them  an  account  dis- 
mayed them  all,  and  word  was  carried  in  to  the  King.  So  I 
was  called  for,  and  did  tell  the  King  and  Duke  of  York  what 
I  saw,  and  that  unless  his  Majesty  did  command  houses  to  be 
pulled  down  nothing  could  stop  the  fire.  They  seemed  much 
troubled,  and  the  King  commanded  me  to  go  to  my  Lord  Mayor 
from  him,  and  command  him  to  spare  no  houses,  but  to  pull 
down  before  the  fire  every  way.  The  Duke  of  York  bid  me 
tell  him  that  if  he  would  have  any  more  soldiers  he  shall ;  and 
so  did  my  Lord  Arlington  afterwards,  as  a  great  secret.  Here 
meeting  with  Captain  Cocke,  I  in  his  coach,  which  he  lent 
me,  and  Creed  with  me  to  Paul's,  and  there  walked  along 
Watling-street,  as  well  as  I  could,  every  creature  coming 
away  loaden  with  goods  to  save,  and  here  and  there  sicke 
people  carried  away  in  beds.  Extraordinary  good  goods  car- 
ried in  carts  and  on  backs.  At  last  met  my  Lord  Mayor  in 
Canning-street,  like  a  man  spent,  with  a  handkercher  about 
his  neck.  To  the  King's  message  he  cried,  like  a  fainting 
woman,  "Lord!  what  can  I  do?  I  am  spent:  people  will 
not  obey  me.  I  have  been  pulling  down  houses  ;  but  the  fire 
overtakes  us  faster  than  we  can  do  it."    That  he  needed  no 


THE  FIRE  IN  LONDON  283 

more  soldiers  ;  and  that,  for  himself,  he  must  go  and  refresh 
himself,  having  been  up  all  night.  So  he  left  me,  and  I  him, 
and  walked  home,  seeing  people  all  almost  distracted,  and  no 
manner  of  means  used  to  quench  the  fire.  The  houses,  too, 
so  very  thick  thereabouts,  and  full  of  matter  for  burning,  as 
pitch  and  tarr,  in  Thames-street ;  and  warehouses  of  oyle,  and 
wines,  and  brandy,  and  other  things.  Here  I  saw  Mr.  Isaac 
Houblon,  the  handsome  man,  prettily  dressed  and  dirty,  at 
his  door  at  Dowgate,  receiving  some  of  his  brother's  things, 
whose  houses  were  on  fire  ;  and,  as  he  says,  have  been  re- 
moved twice  already ;  and  he  doubts  (as  it  soon  proved)  that 
they  must  be  in  a  little  time  removed  from  his  house  also, 
which  was  a  sad  consideration.  And  to  see  the  churches  all 
filling  with  goods  by  people  who  themselves  should  have  been 
quietly  there,  at  this  time.  .  .  .  Having  seen  as  much  as  I 
could  now,  I  away  to  White  Hall  by  appointment,  and  there 
walked  to  St.  James's  Parke,  and  there  met  my  wife  and 
Creed  and  Wood  and  his  wife,  and  walked  to  my  boat ;  and 
there  upon  the  water  again,  and  to  the  fire  up  and  down,  it 
still  encreasing,  and  the  wind  great.  So  near  the  fire  as  we  could 
for  smoke  ;  and  all  over  the  Thames,  with  one's  face  in  the 
wind,  you  were  almost  burned  with  a  shower  of  fire-drops.  This 
is  very  true  ;  so  as  houses  were  burned  by  these  drops  and 
flakes  of  fire,  three  or  four,  nay,  five  or  six  houses,  one  from 
another.  When  we  could  endure  no  more  upon  the  water,  we  to 
a  little  ale-house  on  the  Bankside,  over  against  the  Three 
Cranes,  and  there  staid  till  it  was  dark  almost,  and  saw  the  fire 
grow  ;  and,  as  it  grew  darker,  appeared  more  and  more,  and  in 
corners  and  upon  steeples,  and  between  churches  and  houses, 
as  far  as  we  could  see  up  the  hill  of  the  City,  in  a  most 
horrid  malicious  bloody  flame,  not  like  the  fine  flame  of  an 
ordinary  fire.  Barbary  and  her  husband  away  before  us.  We 
staid   till,   it   being  darkish,   we  saw  the    fire   as   only  one 


284  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

entire  arch  of  fire  from  this  to  the  other  side  the  bridge,  and 
in  a  bow  up  the  hill  for  an  arch  of  above  a  mile  long  :  it 
made  me  weep  to  see  it.  The  churches,  houses,  and  all  on 
fire  and  flaming  at  once  ;  and  a  horrid  noise  the  flames 
made,  and  the  cracking  of  houses  at  their  ruine.  So  home 
with  a  sad  heart,  and  there  find  every  body  discoursing  and 
lamenting  the  fire  ;  and  poor  Tom  Hater  came  with  some 
few  of  his  goods  saved  out  of  his  house,  which  is  burned 
upon  Fish-streete  Hill.  I  invited  him  to  lie  at  my  house,  and 
did  receive  his  goods,  but  was  deceived  in  his  lying  there, 
the  newes  coming  every  moment  of  the  growth  of  the  fire ; 
so  as  we  were  forced  to  begin  to  pack  up  our  owne  goods, 
and  prepare  for  their  removal ;  and  did  by  moonshine  (it 
being  brave  dry,  and  moonshine,  and  warm  weather)  carry 
much  of  my  goods  into  the  garden,  and  Mr.  Hater  and  I 
did  remove  my  money  and  iron  chests  into  my  cellar,  as 
thinking  that  the  safest  place.  And  got  my  bags  of  gold  into 
my  office,  ready  to  carry  away,  and  my  chief  papers  of 
accounts  also  there,  and  my  tallys  into  a  box  by  themselves. 
So  great  was  our  fear,  as  Sir  W.  Batten  hath  carts  come  out 
of  the  country  to  fetch  away  his  goods  this  night. 


Number  ^^ 
THE   SONG  OF  THE  WESTERN   MEN 

Robert  Stephen  Hawker.    Cornish  Ballads  and  Other  Poems,  p.  i. 

A  good  sword  and  a  trusty  hand  ! 

A  merry  heart  and  true  ! 
King  James's  men  shall  understand 

What  Cornish  lads  can  do  j 


THE  SONG  OF  THE  WESTERN   MEN  285 

And  have  they  fixed  the  where  and  when  ? 

And  shall  Trelawny  die  ? 
Here  's  twenty  thousand  Cornish  men 

Will  know  the  reason  why  ! 

Out  spake  their  Captain  brave  and  bold  : 
A  merry  wight  was  he  :  — 
"  If  London  Tower  were  Michael's  hold, 
W' e  '11  set  Trelawny  free  ! 

"  We  '11  cross  the  Tamar,  land  to  land, 
The  Severn  is  no  stay, 
With  '  one  and  all,'  and  hand  in  hand, 
And  who  shall  bid  us  nay  ? 

"  And  when  wc  come  to  London  Wall, 
A  pleasant  sight  to  view, 
Come  forth  !  come  forth  !  ye  cowards  all : 
Here  's  men  as  good  as  you. 

"  Trelawny  he  's  in  keep  and  hold  : 
Trelawny  he  may  die  : 
But  here  's  twenty  thousand  Cornish  bold. 
Will  know  the  reason  why  !  " 


286  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

Number  ^6 
THE   STATE  OF  ENGLAND  IN  1685 

Thomas  Babington  Macaulay.   The  History  of  England frovi  the  Accession 
of  James  I/,  Vol.  I,  chap,  m,  passim. 

.  .  .  Could  the  England  of  1685  be,  by  some  magical 
process,  set  before  our  eyes,  we  should  not  know  one  land- 
scape in  a  hundred  or  one  building  in  ten  thousand.  The 
country  gentleman  would  not  recognize  his  own  fields.  The 
inhabitant  of  the  town  would  not  recognize  his  own  street. 
Every  thing  has  been  changed  but  the  great  features  of 
nature,  and  a  few  massive  and  durable  works  of  human  art. 
We  might  find  out  Snowdon  and  Windermere,  the  Cheddar 
Cliffs  and  Beachy  Head.  We  might  find  out  here  and  there 
a  Norman  minster,  or  a  castle  which  witnessed  the  wars  of 
the  Roses  ;  but,  with  such  rare  exceptions,  every  thing  would 
be  strange  to  us.  Many  thousands  of  square  miles,  which 
are  now  rich  corn  land  and  meadow,  intersected  by  green 
hedge-rows,  and  dotted  with  villages  and  pleasant  country 
seats,  would  appear  as  moors  overgrown  with  furze,  or  fens 
abandoned  to  wild  ducks.  We  should  see  straggling  huts 
built  of  wood  and  covered  with  thatch  where  we  now  see 
manufacturing  towns  and  sea-ports  renowned  to  the  farthest 
ends  of  the  world.  The  capital  itself  would  shrink  to  dimen- 
sions not  much  exceeding  those  of  its  present  suburb  on  the 
south  of  the  Thames.  Not  less  strange  to  us  would  be  the 
garb  and  manners  of  the  people,  the  furniture  and  the  equip- 
ages, the  interior  of  the  shops  and  dwellings.  Such  a  change 
in  the  state  of  a  nation  seems  to  be  at  least  as  well  entitled 
to  the  notice  of  a  historian  as  any  change  of  the  dynasty  or 
of  the  ministry.   .  .  . 


THE  STATE  OF  ENGLAND   IN   1685  287 

.  .  .  We  may  .  .  .  with  confidence  pronounce  that,  when 
James  the  Second  reigned,  England  contained  between  five 
million  and  five  million  five  hundred  thousand  inhabitants.  On 
the  very  highest  supposition,  she  then  had  less  than  one  third 
of  her  present  population,  and  less  than  three  times  the  pop- 
ulation which  is  now  [1845]  collected  in  her  gigantic  capital. 

The  increase  of  the  people  had  been  great  in  every  part 
of  the  kingdom,  but  generally  much  greater  in  the  northern 
than  in  the  southern  shires.  In  truth,  a  large  part  of  the 
country  beyond  Trent  was,  down  to  the  eighteenth  century, 
in  a  state  of  barbarism.  Physical  and  moral  causes  had  con- 
curred to  prevent  civilization  from  spreading  to  that  region. 
The  air  was  inclement ;  the  soil  was  generally  such  as  re- 
quired skillful  and  industrious  cultivation  ;  and  there  could 
be  little  skill,  or  industry  in  a  tract  which  was  often  the  theater 
of  war,  and  which,  even  when  there  was  nominal  peace,  was 
constantly  desolated  by  bands  of  Scottish  marauders.  Before 
the  union  of  the  two  British  crowns,  and  long  after  that  union, 
there  was  as  great  a  difference  between  Middlesex  and  North- 
umberland as  there  now  is  between  Massachusetts  and  the 
settlements  of  those  squatters  who,  far  to  the  west  of  the  Mis-' 
sissippi,  administer  a  rude  justice  with  the  rifle  and  the  dagger. 
In  the  reign  of  Charles  the  Second,  the  traces  left  by  ages 
of  slaughter  and  pillage  were  still  distinctly  perceptible,  manv 
miles  south  of  the  Tweed,  in  the  face  of  the  country  and  in 
the  lawless  manners  of  the  people.  There  was  still  a  large 
class  of  moss-troopers,  whose  calling  was  to  plunder  dwellings 
and  to  drive  away  whole  herds  of  cattle.  .  .  .  The  parishes 
were  required  to  keep  blood-hounds  for  the  purpose  of  hunt- 
ing the  freebooters.  Many  old  men  who  were  living  in  the 
middle  of  the  eighteenth  centur)^  could  well  remember  the 
time  when  those  ferocious  dogs  were  common  ;  yet,  even  with 
such  auxiliaries,  it  was  found  impossible  to  track  the  robbers 


288  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

to  their  retreats  among  the  hills  and  morasses,  for  the  geog- 
raphy of  that  wild  country  was  very  imperfectly  known.  .  .  . 
The  seats  of  the  gentry  and  the  larger  farm-houses  were  forti- 
fied.   Oxen  were  penned  at  night  beneath  the  overhanging 
battlements  of  the  residence,  which  was  known  by  the  name 
of  the  Peel.    The  inmates  slept  with  arms  at  their  sides. 
Huge  stones  and  boiling  water  were  in  readiness  to  crush 
and  scald  the  plunderer  who  might  venture  to  assail  the  little 
garrison.     No  traveler   ventured   into 'that  country  without 
making  his  will.    The  judges  on  circuit,  with  the  whole  body 
of  barristers,  attorneys,   clerks,   and  serving  men,  rode  on 
horseback  from  Newcastle  to  Carlisle,  armed  and  escorted 
by  a  strong  guard  under  the  command  of  the  sheriffs.   .  .  . 
Slowly  and  with  difficulty  peace  was  established  on  the 
border.    In  the  train  of  peace  came  industry  and  all  the  arts 
of  life.    Meanwhile  it  was  discovered  that  the  regions  north 
of  the  Trent  possessed  in  their  coal-beds  a  source  of  wealtli 
far  more  precious  than  the  gold-mines  of  Peru.    It  was  found 
that,  in  the  neighborhood  of  these  beds,  almost  every  manu- 
facture might  be  most  profitably  carried  on.   A  constant  stream 
of  emigrants  began  to  roll  northward.   .  .   . 

.  The  majority  of  Englishmen  who  were  under  twenty- 
five  years  of  age  had  probably  never  seen  a  company  of 
regular  soldiers.  Of  the  cities  which,  in  the  civil  war,  had 
valiantly  repelled  hostile  armies,  scarce  one  was  now  capable 
of  sustaining  a  siege.  The  gates  stood  open  night  and  day. 
The  ditches  were  dry.  The  ramparts  had  been  suffered  to 
fall  into  decay,  or  were  repaired  only  that  the  townsfolk 
might  have  a  pleasant  walk  on  summer  evenings.  Of  the 
old  baronial  keeps  many  had  been  shattered  by  the  cannon  of 
Fairfax  and  Cromwell,  and  lay  in  heaps  of  ruin,  overgrown 
with  ivy.  Those  which  remained  had  lost  their  martial  char- 
acter, and  were  now  rural  palaces  of  the  aristocracy.    The 


THE  STATE  OF  ENGLAND  IN   1685  289 

moats  were  turned  into  preserves  of  carp  and  pike.  The 
mounds  were  planted  with  fragrant  shrubs,  through  which 
spiral  walks  ran  up  to  summer-houses  adorned  with  mirrors 
and  paintings.  There  were  still  to  be  seen,  on  the  capes  of 
the  sea-coast,  and  on  many  inland  hills,  tall  posts  surmounted 
by  barrels.  Once  these  barrels  had  been  filled  with  pitcii. 
Watchmen  had  been  set  round  them  in  seasons  of  danger ; 
and,  within  a  few  hours  after  a  Spanish  sail  had  been  dis- 
covered in  the  Channel,  or  after  a  thousand  Scottish  moss- 
troopers had  crossed  the  Tweed,  the  signal  fires  were  blazing 
fifty  miles  off,  and  whole  counties  were  rising  in  arms.  But 
many  years  had  now  elapsed  since  the  beacons  had  been 
lighted,  and  they  were  regarded  rather  as  curious  relics  of 
ancient  manners  than  as  parts  of  a  machinery  necessary  to 
the  safety  of  the  state.  .  .  . 

There  were  those  who  looked  on  the  militia  with  no  friendly 
eye.  Men  who  had  traveled  much  on  the  Continent,  who 
had  marveled  at  the  stern  precision  with  which  every  sentinel 
moved  and  spoke  in  the  citadels  built  by  Vauban,  who  had 
seen  the  mighty  armies  which  poured  along  all  the  roads  of 
Germany  to  chase  the  Ottoman  from  the  gates  of  Vienna, 
and  who  had  been  dazzled  by  the  well-ordered  pomp  of  the 
household  troops  of  Louis,  sneered  much  at  the  wav  in 
which  the  peasants  of  Devonshire  and  Yorkshire  marched 
and  wheeled,  shouldered  muskets  and   ported  pikes. ^   .   .   . 

1  Drydcn,  in  his  Cymon  and  Iphigenia,  expressed,  with  his  usual  keenness  and 
energy,  the  sentiments  which  had  been  fashionable  among  the  sycophants  of  James 

"The  country  rings  around  with  loud  alarms, 
And  raw  in  fields  the  rude  militia  swarms ; 
Mouths  without  hands,  maintained  at  vast  expense, 
In  peace  a  charge,  in  war  a  weak  defense. 
Stout  once  a  month  they  march,  a  blustering  band, 
And  ever,  but  in  time  of  need,  at  hand. 
This  was  the  mom  when,  issuing  on  the  guard, 
Drawn  up  in  rank  and  file,  they  stood  prepared 
Of  seeming  arms  to  make  a  short  essay. 
Then  hasten  to  be  drunk,  the  business  of  the  day." 


290  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

Since  the  beginning  of  the  seventeenth  century  a  great 
change  had  taken  place  in  the  arms  of  the  infantry.  The  pike 
had  been  gradually  giving  place  to  the  musket,  and,  at  the 
close  of  the  reign  of  Charles  the  Second,  most  of  his  foot 
were  musketeers.  Still,  however,  there  was  a  large  inter- 
mixture of  pikemen.  Each  class  of  troops  was  occasionally 
instructed  in  the  use  of  the  weapon  which  peculiarly  belonged 
to  the  other  class.  Every  foot  soldier  had  at  his  side  a  sword 
for  close  fight.  The  dragoon  was  armed  like  a  musketeer, 
and  was  also  provided  with  a  weapon  which  had,  during  many 
years,  been  gradually  coming  into  use,  and  which  the  English 
then  called  a  dagger,  but  which,  from  the  time  of  our  Revolu- 
tion, has  been  known  among  us  by  the  French  name  of  bay- 
onet. The  bayonet  seems  not  to  have  been  so  formidable  an 
instrument  of  destruction  as  it  has  since  become,  for  it  was 
inserted  in  the  muzzle  of  the  gun,  and  in  action  much  time 
was  lost  while  the  soldier  unfixed  his  bayonet  in  order  to  fire, 
and  fixed  it  again  in  order  to  charge.   .   .   . 

.  .  .  When  the  reign  of  Charles  terminated,  his  navy  had 
sunk  into  degradation  and  decay,  such  as  would  be  almost 
incredible  if  it  were  not  certified  to  us  by  the  independent 
and  concurring  evidence  of  witnesses  whose  authority  is 
beyond  exception.  Pepys,  the  ablest  man  in  the  English 
Admiralty,  drew  up,  in  the  year  1684,  a  memorial  on  the 
state  of  his  department  for  the  information  of  Charles.  A 
few  months  later,  Bonrepaux,  the  ablest  man  in  the  French 
Admiralty,  having  visited  England  for  the  especial  purpose 
of  ascertaining  her  maritime  strength,  laid  the  result  of  his 
inquiries  before  Louis.  The  two  reports  are  to  the  same 
effect.  Bonrepaux  declared  that  he  found  every  thing  in  dis- 
order and  in  miserable  condition ;  that  the  superiority  of  the 
French  marine  was  acknowledged  with  shame  and  envy  at 
Whitehall ;  and  that  the  state  of  our  shipping  and  dock-yards 


THE  STATE  OF  ENGLAND  IN   1685  29 1 

was  of  itself  a  sufficient  guarantee  that  we  should  not  meddle 
in  the  disputes  of  Europe.  Pepys  informed  his  master  that 
the  naval  administration  was  a  prodigy  of  wastefulness,  cor- 
ruption, ignorance,  and  indolence  ;  that  no  estimate  could  be 
trusted  ;  that  no  contract  was  performed  ;  that  no  check  was 
enforced.  .  .  . 

We  should  be  much  mistaken  if  we  pictured  to  ourselves 
the  squires  of  the  seventeenth  century  as  men  bearing  a  close 
resemblance  to  their  descendants,  the  county  members  and 
chairmen  of  quarter  sessions  with  whom  we  are  familiar. 
The  modem  [about  1850]  countr)'  gentleman  generally  re- 
ceives a  liberal  education,  passes  from  a  distinguished  school 
to  a  distinguished  college,  and  has  every  opportunity  to  be- 
come an  excellent  scholar.  He  has  generally  seen  something 
of  foreign  countries.  A  considerable  part  of  his  life  has  gen- 
erally been  passed  in  the  capital ;  and  the  refinements  of  the 
capital  follow  him  into  the  countr)-.  There  is,  perhaps,  no 
class  of  dwellings  so  pleasing  as  the  rural  seats  of  the  Eng- 
lish gentry.  In  the  parks  and  pleasure  grounds,  Nature, 
dressed,  yet  not  disguised  by  art,  wears  her  most  alluring 
form.  In  the  buildings,  good  sense  and  good  taste  combine 
to  produce  a  happy  union  of  the  comfortable  and  the  graceful. 
The  pictures,  the  musical  instruments,  the  librar)^  would  in 
any  other  country'  be  considered  as  proving  the  owner  to  be 
an  eminently  polished  and  accomplished  man.  A  countr)' 
gentleman  who  witnessed  the  Revolution  was  probably  in 
receipt  of  about  a  fourth  part  of  the  rent  which  his  acres  now 
yield  to  his  posterity.  He  was,  therefore,  as  compared  with 
his  posterity,  a  poor  man,  and  was  generally  under  the  neces- 
sity of  residing,  with  litde  interruption,  on  his  estate.  To 
travel  on  the  Continent,  to  maintain  an  establishment  in 
London,  or  even  to  visit  London  frequently,  were  pleasures 
in  which  only  the  great  proprietors  could  indulge.    It  may  be 


292  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

confidently  affirmed,  that  of  the  squires  whose  names  were 
in  King  Charles's  commissions  of  peace  and  lieutenancy,  not 
one  in  twenty  went  to  town  once  in  five  years,  or  had  ever 
in  his  life  wandered  so  far  as  Paris.  Many  lords  of  manors 
had  received  an  education  differing  little  from  that  of  their 
menial  ser\'ants.  The  heir  of  an  estate  often  passed  his  boy- 
hood and  youth  at  the  seat  of  his  family,  with  no  better 
tutors  than  grooms  and  game-keepers,  and  scarce  attained 
learning  enough  to  sign  his  name  to  a  mittimus.  If  he  went 
to  school  and  to  college,  he  generally  returned  before  he  was 
twenty  to  the  seclusion  of  the  old  hall,  and  there,  unless  his 
mind  was  very  happily  constituted  by  nature,  soon  forgot 
his  academical  pursuits  in  rural  business  and  pleasures.  His 
chief  serious  employment  was  the  care  of  his  property.  He 
examined  samples  of  grain,  handled  pigs,  and  on  market 
days  made  bargains  over  a  tankard  with  drovers  and  hop- 
merchants.  His  chief  pleasures  were  commonly  derived  from 
field-sports  and  from  an  unrefined  sensuality.  His  language 
and  pronunciation  were  such  as  we  should  now  expect  to 
hear  only  from  the  most  ignorant  clowns.  His  oaths,  coarse 
jests,  and  scurrilous  terms  of  abuse  were  uttered  with  the 
broadest  accent  of  his  province.  It  was  easy  to  discern,  from 
the  first  words  which  he  spoke,  whether  he  came  from 
Somersetshire  or  Yorkshire.  He  troubled  himself  little  about 
decorating  his  abode,  and,  if  he  attempted  decoration,  seldom 
produced  anything  but  deformit}'.  The  litter  of  a  farm-yard 
gathered  under  the  windows  of  his  bed-chamber,  and  the 
cabbages  and  gooseberry  bushes  grew  close  to  his  hall  door. 
His  table  was  loaded  with  coarse  plenty,  and  guests  were 
cordially  welcomed  to  it ;  but,  as  the  habit  of  drinking  to  ex- 
cess was  general  in  the  class  to  which  he  belonged,  and  as 
his  fortune  did  not  enable  him  to  intoxicate  large  assemblies 
daily  with  claret  or  canary,   strong  beer  was  the  ordinary 


THE  STATE  OF  ENGLAND   IN   1685  293 

beverage.  The  quantity  of  beer  consumed  in  those  days  was 
indeed  enormous ;  for  beer  then  was  to  the  middle  and 
lower  classes  not  only  all  that  beer  now  is,  but  all  that  wine, 
tea,  and  ardent  spirits  now  are.  It  was  only  at  great  houses 
or  on  great  occasions  that  foreign  drink  was  placed  on  the 
board.  The  ladies  of  the  house,  whose  business  it  had  com- 
monly been  to  cook  the  repast,  retired  as  soon  as  the  dishes 
had  been  devoured,  and  left  the  gentlemen  to  their  ale  and 
tobacco.  The  coarse  jollity  of  the  afternoon  was  often  pro- 
longed till  the  revelers  were  laid  under  the  table. 

It  was  very  seldom  that  the  country  gentleman  caught 
glimpses  of  the  great  world,  and  what  he  saw  of  it  tended 
rather  to  confuse  than  to  enlighten  his  understanding.  His 
opinions  respecting  religion,  government,  foreign  countries, 
and  former  times,  having  been  derived,  not  from  study,  from 
observation,  or  from  conversation  with  enlightened  compan- 
ions, but  from  such  traditions  as  were  current  in  his  own 
small  circle,  were  the  opinions  of  a  child.  He  adhered  to 
them,  however,  with  the  obstinacy  which  is  generally  found 
in  ignorant  men  accustomed  to  be  fed  with  flattery.  His 
animosities  were  numerous  and  bitter.  He  hated  Frenchmen 
and  Italians,  Scotchmen  and  Irishmen,  papists  and  Presby- 
terians, Independents  and  Baptists,  Quakers  and  Jews.  To- 
ward London  and  Londoners  he  felt  an  aversion  which  more 
than  once  produced  important  political  effects.  His  wife  and 
daughter  were  in  tastes  and  acquirements  below  a  housekeeper 
or  a  still-room  maid  of  the  present  day.  They  stitched  and 
spun,  brewed  gooseberr\'  wine,  cured  marigolds,  and  made 
the  crust  for  the  venison  pasty. 

.  ,  ,  Thus  the  character  of  the  English  esquire  of  the 
seventeenth  century  was  compounded  of  two  elements  which 
we  are  not  accustomed  to  find  united.  His  ignorance  and 
uncouthness,  his  low  tastes  and  gross  phrases,  would,  in  our 


294  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

time,  be  considered  as  indicating  a  nature  and  a  breeding 
thoroughly  plebeian;  yet  he  was  essentially  a  patrician,  and 
had,  in  large  measure,  both  the  virtues  and  the  vices  which 
flourish  among  men  set  from  their  birth  in  high  place,  and 
accustomed  to  authority,  to  observance,  and  to  self-respect. 
It  is  not  easy  for  a  generation  which  is  accustomed  to  find 
chivalrous  sentiments  only  in  company  with  liberal  studies 
and  polished  manners  to  image  to  itself  a  man  with  the 
deportment,  the  vocabulary,  and  the  accent  of  a  carter,  yet 
punctilious  on  matters  of  genealogy  and  precedence,  and 
ready  to  risk  his  life  rather  than  see  a  stain  cast  on  the 
honor  of  his  house.  It  is  only,  however,  by  thus  joining 
together  things  seldom  or  never  found  together  in  our  own 
experience,  that  we  can  form  a  just  idea  of  that  rustic  aris- 
tocracy which  constituted  the  main  strength  of  the  armies  of 
Charles  the  First,  and  which  long  supported,  with  strange 
fidelity,  the  interests  of  his  descendants. 

.  .  .  Thus,  after  murmuring  twenty  years  at  the  mis- 
government  of  Charles  the  Second,  they  came  to  his  rescue 
in  his  extremity,  when  his  own  secretaries  of  state  and  lords 
of  the  Treasury  had  deserted  him,  and  enabled  him  to  gain 
a  complete  victory  over  the  Opposition  ;  nor  can  there  be  any 
doubt  that  they  would  have  shown  equal  loyalty  to  his  brother 
James,  if  James  would,  even  at  the  moment,  have  refrained 
from  outraging  their  strongest  feeling  ;  for  there  was  one  in- 
stitution, and  one  only,  which  they  prized  even  more  than 
hereditary  monarchy,  and  that  institution  was  the  Church  of 
England.  Their  love  of  the  Church  was  not,  indeed,  the 
effect  of  study  or  meditation.  Few  among  them  could  have 
given  any  reason,  drawn  from  Scripture  or  ecclesiastical  his- 
tory, for  adhering  to  her  doctrines,  her  ritual,  and  her  polity  ; 
nor  were  they,  as  a  class,  by  any  means  strict  observers  of 
that  code  of  morality  which  is  common  to  all  Christian  sects. 


THE  STATE  OF  ENGLAND  IN   1685  295 

But  the  experience  of  many  iv^es  proves  that  men  may  be 
ready  to  fight  to  the  death,  and  to  persecute  without  pity, 
for  a  religion  whose  creed  they  do  not  understand,  and  whose 
precepts  they  habitually  disobey. 

The  rural  clergy  were  even  more  vehement  in  Toryism 
than  the  rural  gentry,  and  were  a  class  scarcely  less  important. 
It  is  to  be  observed,  however,  that  the  individual  clergyman, 
as  compared  with  the  individual  gentleman,  then  ranked 
much   lower  than   in  these  days.  .  .  . 

The  place  of  the  clergyman  in  society  had  been  completely 
changed  by  the  Reformation.  Before  that  event,  ecclesiastics 
had  formed  the  majority  of  the  House  of  Lords ;  had,  in  wealth 
and  splendor,  equaled,  and  sometimes  outshone,  the  greatest 
of  the  temporal  barons,  and  had  generally  held  the  highest 
civil  offices.  The  lord  treasurer  was  often  a  bishop.  The  lord 
chancellor  was  almost  always  so.  .  .  .  Down  to  the  middle 
of  the  reign  of  Henry  the  Eighth,  therefore,  no  line  of  life 
bore  so  inviting  an  aspect  to  ambitious  and  covetous  natures 
as  the  priesthood.  Then  came  a  violent  revolution.  The 
abolition  of  the  monasteries  deprived  the  Church  at  once  of 
the  greater  part  of  her  wealth,  and  of  her  predominance  in 
the  Upper  House  of  Parliament.  .  .  .  During  the  century 
which  followed  the  accession  of  Elizabeth,  scarce  a  single 
person  of  noble  descent  took  orders.  At  the  close  of  the 
reign  of  Charles  the  Second,  two  sons  of  peers  were  bishops  ; 
four  or  five  sons  of  peers  were  priests,  and  held  valuable 
preferment ;  but  these  rare  exceptions  did  not  take  away  the 
reproach  which  lay  on  the  body.  The  clergy  were  regarded  as, 
on  the  whole,  a  plebeian  class  ;  and,  indeed,  for  one  who  made 
the  figure  of  a  gentleman,  ten  were  mere  menial  ser\^ants.  .  .  . 
The  coarse  and  ignorant  squire,  who  thought  that  it  belonged 
to  his  dignity  to  have  grace  said  every  day  at  his  table  by  an 
ecclesiastic  in  full  canonicals,  found  means  to  reconcile  dignity 


296  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

with  economy.  A  young  Levite  —  such  was  the  phrase  then  in 
use  —  might  be  had  for  his  board,  a  small  garret,  and  ten 
pounds  a  year,  and  might  not  only  perform  his  own  profes- 
sional functions,  might  not  only  be  the  most  patient  of  butts 
and  of  listeners,  might  not  only  be  always  ready  in  fine  weather 
for  bowls,  and  in  rainy  weather  for  shovel-board,  but  might 
also  save  the  expense  of  a  gardener  or  of  a  groom.  Some- 
times the  reverend  man  nailed  up  the  apricots,  and  sometimes 
he  curried  the  coach-horses.  He  cast  up  the  farrier's  bills. 
He  walked  ten  miles  with  a  message  or  a  parcel.  If  he  was 
permitted  to  dine  with  the  family,  he  was  expected  to  con- 
tent himself  with  the  plainest  fare.  He  might  fill  himself 
with  the  corned  beef  and  the  carrots  ;  but,  as  soon  as  the 
tarts  and  cheese-cakes  made  their  appearance,  he  quitted 
his  seat,  and  stood  aloof  till  he  was  summoned  to  return 
thanks  for  the  repast,  from  a  great  part  of  which  he  had 
been  excluded. 

...  A  waiting-woman  was  generally  considered  as  the 
most  suitable  helpmate  for  a  parson.  Queen  Elizabeth,  as 
head  of  the  Church,  had  given  what  seemed  to  be  a  formal 
sanction  to  this  prejudice,  by  issuing  special  orders  that  no 
clergyman  should  presume  to  marry  a  servant-girl  without  the 
consent  of  her  master  or  mistress.  During  several  generations, 
accordingly,  the  relation  between  priests  and  hand-maidens 
was  a  theme  for  endless  jest ;  nor  would  it  be  easy  to  find,  in 
the  comedy  of  the  seventeenth  century,  a  single  instance  of 
a  clergyman  who  wins  a  spouse  above  the  rank  of  a  cook.  .  .  , 

In  general,  the  divine  who  quitted  his  chaplainship  for  a 
benefice  and  a  wife  found  that  he  had  only  exchanged  one  class 
of  vexations  for  another.  Not  one  living  in  fifty  enabled  the 
incumbent  to  bring  up  a  family  comfortably.  As  children  mul- 
tiplied and  grew,  the  household  of  the  priest  became  more  and 
more  beggarly.    Holes  appeared  more  and  more  plainly  in  the 


THE  STATE  OE   ENGLAND   IN    1685  297 

thatch  of  his  parsonage  and  in  his  single  cassock.  Often  it 
was  only  by  toiling  on  his  glebe,  by  feeding  swine,  and  by 
loading  dung-carts,  that  he  could  obtain  daily  bread  ;  nor  did 
his  utmost  exertions  always  prevent  the  bailiffs  from  taking 
his  concordance  and  his  ink-stand  in  execution.  It  was  a 
white  day  on  which  he  was  admitted  into  the  kitchen  of  a 
great  house,  and  regaled  by  the  servants  with  cold  meat  and 
ale.  His  children  were  brought  up  like  the  children  of  the 
neighboring  peasantry.  His  boys  followed  the  plow,  and  his 
girls  went  out  to  service.  Study  he  found  impossible,  for  the 
advowson  of  his  living  would  hardly  have  sold  for  a  sum 
sufficient  to  purchase  a  good  theological  library ;  and  he 
might  be  considered  as  unusually  lucky  if  he  had  ten  or 
twelve  dog-eared  volumes  among  the  pots  and  pans  on  his 
shelves.  Even  a  keen  and  strong  intellect  might  be  expected 
to  rust  in  so  unfavorable  a  situation. 

Assuredly  there  was  at  that  time  no  lack  in  the  English 
Church  of  ministers  distinguished  by  abilities  and  learning. 
But  it  is  to  be  observed  that  these  ministers  were  not  scattered 
among  the  rural  population.  They  were  brought  together  at 
a  few  places  where  the  means  of  acquiring  knowledge  were 
abundant,  and  where  the  opportunities  of  vigorous  intellectual 
exercise  were  frequent.  At  such  places  were  to  be  found 
divines  qualified  by  parts,  by  eloquence,  by  wide  knowledge 
of  literature,  of  science,  and  of  life,  to  defend  their  Church 
victoriously  against  heretics  and  skeptics,  to  command  the 
attention  of  frivolous  and  worldly  congregations,  to  guide  the 
deliberations  of  senates,  and  to  make  religion  respectable, 
even  in  the  most  dissolute  of  courts.   .   .   . 

.  .  .  Among  these  divines  who  were  the  boast  of  the  uni- 
versities and  the  delight  of  the  capital,  and  who  had  attained, 
or  might  reasonably  expect  to  attain,  opulence  and  lordly 
rank,  a  part)-,  respectable  in  numbers,  and  more  respectable 


298  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

in  character,  leaned  toward  constitutional  principles  of  govern- 
ment, lived  on  friendly  terms  with  Presbyterians,  Independ- 
ents, and  Baptists,  would  gladly  have  seen  a  full  toleration 
granted  to  all  Protestant  sects,  and  would  even  have  consented 
to  make  alterations  in  the  Liturgy  for  the  purpose  of  concil- 
iating honest  and  candid  Nonconformists.  But  such  latitudi- 
narianism  was  held  in  horror  by  the  country  parson.  .  .  . 
Having  lived  in  seclusion,  and  having  had  little  opportunity 
of  correcting  his  opinions  by  reading  or  conversation,  he  held 
and  taught  the  doctrines  of  indefeasible  hereditary  right,  of 
passive  obedience,  and  of  non-resistance  in  all  their  crude 
absurdity.  .  .  .  Whatever  influence  his  office  gave  him  was  ex- 
erted with  passionate  zeal  on  the  Tory  side  ;  and  that  influence 
was  immense.  It  would  be  a  great  error  to  imagine,  because 
the  countr)^  rector  was  in  general  not  regarded  as  a  gentleman, 
because  he  could  not  dare  to  aspire  to  the  hand  of  one  of  the 
young  ladies  at  the  manor  house,  because  he  was  not  asked 
into  the  parlors  of  the  great,  but  was  left  to  drink  and  smoke 
with  grooms  and  butlers,  that  the  power  of  the  clerical  body 
was  smaller  than  at  present.  ...  In  the  seventeenth  century 
the  pulpit  was  to  a  large  portion  of  the  population  what  the 
periodical  press  now  is.  Scarce  any  of  the  clowns  who  came 
to  the  parish  church  ever  saw  a  gazette  or  a  political  pamphlet. 
Ill  informed  as  their  spiritual  pastor  might  be,  he  was  yet  better 
informed  than  themselves  :  he  had  every  week  an  opportunity 
of  haranguing  them  ;  and  his  harangues  were  never  answered. 
At  every  important  conjuncture,  invectives  against  the  Whigs 
and  exhortations  to  obey  the  Lord's  Anointed  resounded  at 
once  from  many  thousands  of  pulpits ;  and  the  effect  was 
formidable  indeed.  Of  all  the  causes  which,  after  the  disso- 
lution of  the  Oxford  Parliament,  produced  the  violent  reaction 
against  the  Exclusionists,  the  most  potent  seems  to  have  been 
the  oratory  of  the  country  clergy. 


THE  STATE  OE  ENGLAND   IN   1685  299 

The  power  which  the  country  gentlemen  and  the  country 
clergymen  exercised  in  the  rural  districts  was  in  some  measure 
counterbalanced  by  the  power  of  the  yeomanry,  an  eminently 
manly  and  true-hearted  race.  The  petty  proprietors  who  cul- 
tivated their  own  fields  and  enjoyed  a  modest  competence, 
without  affecting  to  have  scutcheons  and  crests,  or  aspiring 
to  sit  on  the  bench  of  justice,  then  formed  a  much  more  im- 
portant part  of  the  nation  than  at  jDresent,  If  we  may  trust 
the  best  statistical  writers  of  that  age,  not  less  than  a  hundred 
and  sixty  thousand  proprietors,  who,  with  their  families,  must 
have  made  up  more  than  a  seventh  of  the  whole  population, 
derived  their  subsistence  from  little  freehold  estates.  The 
average  income  of  these  small  land-owners  was  estimated  at 
between  sixty  and  seventy  pounds  a  year.  It  was  computed 
that  the  number  of  persons  who  occupied  their  own  land  was 
greater  than  the  number  of  those  who  farmed  the  land  of 
others.  A  large  portion  of  the  yeomanry  had,  from  the  time 
of  the  Reformation,  leaned  toward  Puritanism  ;  had,  in  the 
civil  war,  taken  the  side  of  the  Parliament ;  had,  after  the 
Restoration,  persisted  in  hearing  Presbyterian  and  Independ- 
ent preachers ;  had,  at  elections,  strenuously  supported  the 
Exclusionists  ;  and  had  continued,  even  after  the  discovery 
of  the  Rye  House  Plot  and  the  proscription  of  the  Whig 
leaders,  to  regard  popery  and  arbitrary  power  with  unmitigated 
hostility.  .   .   . 

We  should  greatly  err  if  we  were  to  suppose  that  any  of  the 
streets  and  squares  [of  London]  then  bore  the  same  aspect  as 
at  present.  The  great  majority  of  the  houses,  indeed,  have 
since  that  time  been  wholly,  or  in  great  part,  rebuilt.  If  the 
most  fashionable  parts  of  the  capital  could  be  placed  before 
us,  such  as  they  then  were,  we  should  be  disgusted  with  their 
squalid  appearance,  and  poisoned  by  their  noisome  atmosphere. 
In  Covent  Garden,  a  hlthy  and  noisy  market  was  held  close 


300  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

to  the  dwellings  of  the  great.  Fruit  women  screamed,  carters 
fought,  cabbage  stalks  and  rotten  apples  accumulated  in 
heaps  at  the  thresholds  of  the  Countess  of  Berkshire  and 
of  the  Bishop  of  Durham. 

The  center  of  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields  was  an  open  space  where 
the  rabble  congregated  every  evening,  ...  to  hear  mounte- 
banks harangue,  to  see  bears  dance,  and  to  set  dogs  at  oxen. 
Rubbish  was  shot  in  ever)-  part  of  the  area.  Horses  were 
exercised  there.  The  beggars  were  as  noisy  and  importunate 
as  in  the  worst  governed  cities  of  the  Continent.  .  .  . 

Saint  James's  Square  was  a  receptacle  for  all  the  offal  and 
cinders,  for  all  the  dead  cats  and  dead  dogs  of  Westminster. 
...  It  was  not  till  these  nuisances  had  lasted  through  a 
whole  generation,  and  till  much  had  been  written  about  them, 
that  the  inhabitants  applied  to  Parliament  for  permission  to 
put  up  rails  and  to  plant  trees. 

When  such  was  the  state  of  the  quarter  inhabited  by  the 
most  luxurious  portion  of  society,  we  may  easily  believe  that 
the  great  body  of  the  population  suffered  what  would  now  be 
considered  as  insupportable  grievances.  The  pavement  was 
detestable  ;  all  foreigners  cried  shame  upon  it.  The  drainage 
was  so  bad,  that  in  rainy  weather  the  gutters  soon  became 
torrents.  Several  facetious  poets  have  commemorated  the  fury 
with  which  these  black  rivulets  roared  down  Snow  Hill  and 
Ludgate  Hill,  bearing  to  Fleet  Ditch  a  vast  tribute  of  animal 
and  vegetable  filth  from  the  stalls  of  butchers  and  green- 
grocers. This  flood  was  profusely  thrown  to  right  and  left 
by  coaches  and  carts.  To  keep  as  far  from  the  carriage-road 
as  possible  was  therefore  the  wish  of  every  pedestrian.  The 
mild  and  timid  gave  the  wall ;  the  bold  and  athletic  took  it. 
If  two  roisterers  met,  they  cocked  their  hats  in  each  other's 
faces,  and  pushed  each  other  about  till  the  weaker  was  shoved 
toward  the  kennel.  .  .  . 


THE  STATE  OF  ENGLAND   IN   1685  30 1 

The  houses  were  not  numbered.  There  would,  indeed,  have 
been  little  advantage  in  numbering  them  ;  for  of  the  coach- 
men, chairmen,  porters,  and  errand-boys  of  London,  a  very 
small  proportion  could  read.  It  was  necessary  to  use  marks 
which  the  most  ignorant  could  understand.  The  shops  were 
therefore  distinguished  by  painted  signs,  which  gave  a  gay 
and  grotesque  aspect  to  the  streets.  The  walk  from  Charing 
Cross  to  Whitechapel  lay  through  an  endless  succession  of 
Saracen's  Heads,  Royal  Oaks,  Blue  Bears,  and  Golden  Lambs, 
which  disappeared  when  they  were  no  longer  required  for  the 
direction  of  the  common  people. 

When  the  evening  closed  in,  the  difficulty  and  danger  of 
walking  about  London  became  serious  indeed.  The  garret 
windows  were  opened,  and  pails  were  emptied,  with  little 
regard  to  those  who  were  passing  below.  Falls,  bruises,  and 
broken  bones  were  of  constant  occurrence  ;  for,  till  the  last 
year  of  the  reign  of  Charles  the  Second,  most  of  the  streets 
were  left  in  profound  darkness.  Thieves  and  robbers  plied 
their  trade  with  impunity  ;  yet  they  were  hardly  so  terrible 
to  peaceable  citizens  as  another  class  of  ruffians.  It  was  a 
favorite  amusement  of  dissolute  young  gentlemen  to  swag- 
ger by  night  about  the  town,  breaking  windows,  upsetting 
sedans,  beating  quiet  men,  and  offering  rude  caresses  to 
pretty  women.  .  .  . 

It  ought  to  be  noticed  that  in  the  last  year  of  the  reign 
of  Charles  the  Second  began  a  great  change  in  the  police 
of  London  ;  a  change  which  has  perhaps  added  as  much  to 
the  happiness  of  the  great  body  of  the  people  as  revolutions 
of  much  greater  fame.  An  ingenious  projector,  named  Ed- 
ward Heming,  obtained  letters  patent,  conveying  to  him,  for 
a  term  of  years,  the  exclusive  right  of  lighting  up  London. 
He  undertook,  for  a  moderate  consideration,  to  place  a  light 
before  every  tenth  door,  on  moonless  nights,  from  Michaelmas 


302  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

to  Lady  Day,  and  from  six  to  twelve  of  the  clock.  Those 
who  now  see  the  capital  all  the  year  round,  from  dusk  to 
dawn,  blazing  with  a  splendor  compared  with  which  the 
illuminations  for  La  Hogue  and  Blenheim  would  have  looked 
pale,  may  perhaps  smile  to  think  of  Heming's  lanterns,  which 
glimmered  feebly  before  one  house  in  ten  during  a  small 
part  of  one  night  in  three.  But  such  was  not  the  feeling  of 
his  cotemporaries.  His  scheme  was  enthusiastically  applauded 
and  furiously  attacked.  The  friends  of  improvement  extolled 
him  as  the  greatest  of  all  the  benefactors  of  his  city.  What, 
they  asked,  were  the  boasted  inventions  of  Archimedes  when 
compared  with  the  achievement  of  the  man  who  had  turned 
the  nocturnal  shades  into  noon-day  ?  In  spite  of  these  elo- 
quent eulogies,  the  cause  of  darkness  was  not  left  undefended. 
There  were  fools  in  that  age  who  opposed  the  introduction 
of  what  was  called  the  new  light  as  strenuously  as  fools  in 
our  age  have  opposed  the  introduction  of  vaccination  and 
rail-roads,  as  strenuously  as  the  fools  of  an  age  anterior  to 
the  dawn  of  history  doubtless  opposed  the  introduction  of  the 
plow  and  of  alphabetical  writing.  Many  years  after  the  date 
of  Heming's  patent  there  were  extensive  districts  in  which 
no  lamp  was  seen.   .   .   . 

The  chief  cause  which  made  the  fusion  of  the  different 
elements  of  society  so  imperfect  was  the  extreme  difficulty 
which  our  ancestors  found  in  passing  from  place  to  place. 
Of  all  inventions,  the  alphabet  and  the  printing  press  alone 
excepted,  those  inventions  which  abridge  distance  have  done 
most  for  the  civilization  of  our  species.  Every  improvement 
of  the  means  of  locomotion  benefits  mankind  morally  and 
intellectually  as  well  as  materially,  and  not  only  facilitates  the 
interchange  of  the  various  productions  of  nature  and  art,  but 
tends  to  remove  national  and  provincial  antipathies,  and  to 
bind  together  all  the  branches  of  the  great  human  family. 


THE  STATE  OF  ENGLAND   iX   1685  303 

In  the  seventeenth  century,  the  inhabitants  of  London  were, 
for  almost  every  practical  purpose,  further  from  Reading  than 
they  now  are  from  Edinburgh,  and  further  from  ICdinburgh 
than  they  now  are  from  Vienna.   .   .   . 

It  was  by  the  highways  that  both  travelers  and  goods 
generally  passed  from  place  to  place  ;  and  those  highways 
appear  to  have  been  far  worse  than  might  have  been  expected 
from  the  degree  of  wealth  and  civilization  which  the  nation 
had  even  then  attained.  On  the  best  lines  of  communication 
the  ruts  were  deep,  the  descents  precipitous,  and  the  way  often 
such  as  it  was  hardly  possible  to  distinguish,  in  the  dusk,  from 
the  uninclosed  heath  and  fen  which  lay  on  both  sides.  .  .  . 
Pepys  and  his  wife,  traveling  in  their  own  coach,  lost  their 
way  between  Newbury  and  Reading.  In  the  course  of  the 
same  tour  they  lost  their  way  near  Salisbury,  and  were  in 
danger  of  having  to  pass  the  night  on  the  plain.  It  was  only 
in  fine  weather  that  the  whole  breadth  of  the  road  was  avail- 
able for  wheeled  vehicles.  Often  the  mud  lay  deep  on  the 
right  and  the  left,  and  only  a  narrow  track  of  firm  ground 
rose  above  the  quagmire.  At  such  times  obstructions  and 
quarrels  were  frequent,  and  the  path  was  sometimes  blocked 
up  during  a  long  time  by  carriers,  neither  of  whom  would 
break  the  way.  It  happened,  almost  every  day,  that  coaches 
stuck  fast,  until  a  team  of  cattle  could  be  procured  from  some 
neighboring  farm  to  tug  them  out  of  the  slough.  But  in  bad 
seasons  the  traveler  had  to  encounter  inconveniences  still 
more  serious.  ...  In  some  parts  of  Kent  and  Sussex  none 
but  the  strongest  horses  could,  in  winter,  get  through  the  bog, 
in  which,  at  ever}^  step,  they  sank  deep.  The  markets  were 
often  inaccessible  during  several  months.  It  is  said  that  the 
fruits  of  the  earth  were  sometimes  suffered  to  rot  in  one 
place,  while  in  another  place,  distant  only  a  few  miles,  the 
supply  fell  far  short  of  the  demand.    The  wheeled  carriages 


P4 


READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 


were,  in  this  district,  generally  pulled  by  oxen.  When  Prince 
George  of  Denmark  visited  the  stately  mansion  of  Petworth 
in  wet  weather,  he  was  six  hours  in  going  nine  miles  ;  and  it 
was  necessary  that  a  body  of  sturdy  hinds  should  be  on  each 
side  of  his  coach,  in  order  to  prop  it.  Of  the  carriages  which 
conveyed  his  retinue,  several  were  upset  and  injured.  A  letter 
from  one  of  his  gentlemen  in  waiting  has  been  preserved,  in 
which  the  unfortunate  courtier  complains  that,  during  four- 
teen hours,  he  never  once  alighted,  except  when  his  coach 
was  overturned  or  stuck  fast  in  the  mud.   .   .   . 

...  At  length,  in  the  spring  of  1669,  a  great  and  daring 
innovation  was  attempted.  It  was  announced  that  a  vehicle, 
described  as  the  Flying  Coach,  would  perform  the  whole 
journey  [between  London  and  Oxford]  between  sunrise  and 
sunset.  This  spirited  undertaking  was  solemnly  considered 
and  sanctioned  by  the  heads  of  the  University,  and  appears 
to  ha\e  excited  the  same  sort  of  interest  which  is  excited  in 
our  own  time  by  the  opening  of  a  new  rail-way.  The  vice- 
chancellor,  by  a  notice  which  was  affixed  in  all  public  places, 
prescribed  the  hour  and  place  of  departure.  The  success  of 
the  experiment  was  complete.  At  six  in  the  morning  the 
carriage  began  to  move  from  before  the  ancient  front  of  All 
Souls'  College,  and  at  seven  in  the  evening  the  adventurous 
gentlemen  who  had  run  the  first  risk  were  safely  deposited 
at  their  inn  in  London,   ... 

This  mode  of  traveling,  which  by  Englishmen  of  the  present 
day  would  be  regarded  as  insufferably  slow,  seemed  to  our 
ancestors  wonderfully,  and,  indeed,  alarmingly  rapid.   .   .  . 

In  spite  of  the  attractions  of  the  flying  coaches,  it  was  still 
usual  for  men  who  enjoyed  health  and  vigor,  and  who  were 
not  encumbered  by  much  baggage,  to  perform  long  journeys 
on  horseback.  If  the  traveler  wished  to  move  expeditiously, 
he  rode  post.    Fresh  saddle-horses  and  guides  were  to  be 


THE  STATE  OF  ENGLAND   IN   1685  305 

procured  at  convenient  distances  along  all  the  great  lines  of 
road.  The  charge  was  threepence  a  mile  for  each  horse,  and 
fourpence  a  stage  for  the  guide.  In  this  manner,  when  the 
ways  were  good,  it  was  possible  to  travel,  for  a  considerable 
time,  as  rapidly  as  b)-  any  conveyance  known  in  England, 
till  vehicles  were  propelled  by  steam.  .  .   . 

Whatever  might  be  the  way  in  which  a  journey  was  per- 
formed, the  travelers,  unless  they  were  numerous  and  well 
armed,  ran  considerable  risk  of  being  stopped  and  plundered. 
The  mounted  highwayman,  a  marauder  known  to  our  gen- 
eration only  from  books,  was  to  be  found  on  every  main 
road.  The  waste  tracts  which  lay  on  the  great  routes  near 
London  were  especially  haunted  by 'plunderers  of  this  class. 
Hounslow  Heath,  on  the  great  Western  road,  and  Finchley 
Common,  on  the  great  Northern  road,  were  perhaps  the  most 
celebrated  of  these  spots.  The  Cambridge  scholars  trembled 
when  they  approached  Epping  Forest,  even  in  broad  daylight. 
Seamen  who  had  just  been  paid  off  at  Chatham  were  often 
compelled  to  deliver  their  purses  on  Gadshill,  celebrated  near 
a  hundred  years  earlier  by  the  greatest  of  poets  as  the  scene 
of  the  depredations  of  Poins  and  Falstaff.   .  .  . 

It  was  necessary  to  the  success  and  even  to  the  safety  of 
the  highwayman  that  he  should  be  a  bold  and  skillful  rider, 
and  that  his  manaers  and  appearance  should  be  such  as 
suited  the  master  of  a  fine  horse.  He  therefore  held  an 
aristocratical  position  in  the  community  of  thieves,  appeared 
at  fashionable  coffee-houses  and  gaming-houses,  and  betted 
with  men  of  quality  on  the  race-ground.  Sometimes,  indeed, 
he  was  a  man  of  good  family  and  education.  A  romantic 
interest  therefore  attached,  and  perhaps  still  attaches,  to  the 
names  of  freebooters  of  this  class.  The  vulgar  eagerl\-  drank 
in  tales  of  their  ferocity  and  audacity,  of  their  occasional 
acts  of  generosity  and  good  nature,  of  their  amours,  of  their 


-^06  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

miraculous  escapes,  of  their  desperate  struggles,  and  of  their 
manly  bearing  at  the  bar  and  in  the  cart.  Thus  it  was  related 
of  William  Nevison,  the  great  robber  of  Yorkshire,  that  he 
levied  a  quarterly  tribute  on  all  the  northern  drovers,  and, 
in  return,  not  only  spared  them  himself,  but  protected  them 
against  all  other  thieves  ;  that  he  demanded  purses  in  the 
most  courteous  manner ;  that  he  gave  largely  to  the  poor 
what  he  had  taken  from  the  rich  ;  that  his  life  was  once 
spared  by  the  royal  clemency,  but  that  he  again  tempted  his 
fate,  and  at  length  died,  in  1685,  on  the  gallows  of  York.  .  .  . 

The  spirit  of  the  anti-Puritan  reaction  pervades  almost  the 
whole  polite  literature  of  the  reign  of  Charles  the  Second. 
But  the  very  quintessence  of  that  spirit  will  be  found  in  the 
comic  drama.  The  play-houses,  shut  by  the  meddling  fanatic 
in  the  day  of  his  power,  were  again  crowded.  To  their  old 
attractions  new  and  more  powerful  attractions  had  been 
added.  Scenery,  dresses,  and  decorations,  such  as  would 
now  be  thought  mean  and  absurd,  but  such  as  would  have 
been  esteemed  incredibly  magnificent  by  those  who,  early  in 
the  seventeenth  century,  sat  on  the  filthy  benches  of  the 
Hope,  or  under  the  thatched  roof  of  the  Rose,  dazzled  the 
eyes  of  the  multitude.  The  fascination  of  sex  was  called  in 
to  aid  the  fascination  of  art ;  and  the  young  spectator  saw, 
with  emotions  unknown  to  the  cotemporaries  of  Shakspeare 
and  Jonson,  tender  and  sprightly  heroines  personified  by 
lovely  women.  From  the  day  on  which  the  theaters  were 
reopened,  they  became  seminaries  of  vice  ;    .    .    . 

.  .  .  Nothing  has  as  yet  been  said  of  the  great  body  of 
the  people  ;  of  those  who  held  the  plows,  who  tended  the 
oxen,  who  toiled  at  the  looms  of  Norwich,  and  squared  the 
Portland  stone  for  St.  Paul's  :  nor  can  very  much  be  said. 
The  most  numerous  class  is  precisely  the  class  respecting 
which  we  have  the  most  meager  information.    In  those  times 


THE  STATK  OF  ENGLAND   IN   1685 


307 


philanthropists  did  not  yet  regard  it  as  a  sacred  duty,  nor  had 
demagogues  yet  found  it  a  lucrative  trade,  to  expatiate  on  the 
distress  of  the  laborer.  History  was  too  much  occupied  with 
courts  and  camps  to  spare  a  line  for  the  hut  of  the  peasant 
or  for  the  garret  of  the  mechanic.  The  press  now  often  sends 
forth  in  a  day  a  greater  quantity  of  discussion  and  declamation 
about  the  condition  of  the  working-man  than  was  published 
during  the  twenty-eight  years  which  elapsed  between  the 
Restoration  and  the  Revolution  ;  but  it  would  be  a  great 
error  to  infer  from  the  increase  of  complaint  that  there  has 
been  any  increase  of  misery. 

The  great  criterion  of  the  state  of  the  common  people  is  the 
amount  of  their  wages  ;  and,  as  four  fifths  of  the  common  peo- 
ple were,  in  the  seventeenth  centur}',  employed  in  agriculture, 
it  is  especially  important  to  ascertain  what  were  then  the  wages 
of  agricultural  industry.  On  this  subject  we  have  the  means 
of  arriving  at  conclusions  sufficiently  exact  for  our  purpose. 

Sir  William  Petty,  whose  mere  assertion  carries  great  weight, 
informs  us  that  a  laborer  was  by  no  means  in  the  lowest  state 
who  received  for  a  day's  work  fourpence  with  food,  or  eight- 
pence  without  food.  Four  shillings  a  week,  therefore,  were, 
according  to  Petty 's  calculation,  fair  agricultural  wages.   .   .   . 

The  remuneration  of  workmen  employed  in  manufactures 
has  always  been  higher  than  that  of  the  tillers  of  the  soil.  In 
the  year  1680,  a  member  of  the  House  of  Commons  remarked 
that  the  high  wages  paid  in  this  countr}'  made  it  impossible 
for  our  textures  to  maintain  a  competition  with  the  produce 
of  the  Indian  looms.  An  English  mechanic,  he  said,  instead 
of  slaving  like  a  native  of  Bengal  for  a  piece  of  copper,  ex- 
acted a  shilling  a  day.  Other  evidence  is  extant,  which  proves 
that  a  shilling  a  day  was  the  pay  to  which  the  English  manu- 
facturer then  thought  himself  entitled,  but  that  he  was  often 
forced  to  work  for  less.    The  common  people  of  that  age 


-;o8  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

were  not  in  the  habit  of  meeting  for  pubhc  discussion,  of 
haranguing,  or  of  petitioning  ParHament.  .   .  . 

...  It  is  pleasing  to  reflect  that  the  pubHc  mind  of  England 
has  softened  while  it  has  ripened,  and  that  we  have,  in  the 
course  of  ages,  become,  not  only  a  wiser,  but  also  a  kinder 
people.    There  is  scarcely  a  page  of  the  history  or  lighter 
literature  of  the  seventeenth  century  which  does  not  contain 
some  proof  that  our  ancestors  were  less  humane  than  their 
posterity.  The  discipline  of  workshops,  of  schools,  of  private 
families,  though  not  more  efficient  than  at  present,  was  in- 
finitely harsher.    Masters,  well  born  and  bred,  were  in  the 
habit  of  beating  their  servants.    Pedagogues  knew  no  way  of 
imparting  knowledge  but  by  beating  their  pupils.    Husbands, 
of  decent  station,  were  not  ashamed  to  beat  their  wives.  The 
implacability  of  hostile  factions  was  such  as  we  can  scarcely 
conceive.    Whigs  were  disposed  to  murmur  because  Stafford 
was  suffered  to  die  without  seeing  his  bowels  burned  before 
his  face.    Tories  reviled  and  insulted  Russell  as  his  coach 
passed  from  the  Tower  to  the  scaffold  in  Lincoln's  Inn  Plelds. 
As  little  mercy  was  shown  by  the  populace  to  sufferers  of  a 
humbler  rank.    If  an  offender  was  put  into  the  pillory,  it  was 
well  if  he  escaped  with  life  from  the  shower  of  brick-bats  and 
paving-stones.    If  he  was  tied  to  the  cart's  tail,  the  crowd 
pressed  round  him,  imploring  the  hangman  to  give  it  the 
fellow  well,  and  make  him  howl.   Gentlemen  arranged  parties 
of  pleasure  to  Bridewell  on  court  days,  for  the  purpose  of 
seeing  the  wretched  women  who  beat  hemp  there  whipped. 
A  man  pressed  to  death  for  refusing  to  plead,  a  woman 
burned  for  coining,  excited  less  sympathy  than  is  now  felt 
for  a  galled  horse  or  an  over-driven  ox.  .  .  . 

The  general  effect  of  the  evidence  which  has  been  sub- 
mitted to  the  reader  seems  hardly  to  admit  of  doubt ;  yet,  in 
spite  of  evidence,  many  will  still  image  to  themselves  the 


THE  S^IATK  OF  ENGLAND   IN   1685  309 

England  of  the  Stuarts  as  a  more  pleasant  country  than  the 
England  in  which  we  live.  It  may  at  first  sight  seem  strange 
that  society,  while  constantly  moving  forward  with  eager  speed, 
should  be  constantly  looking  backward  with  tender  regret. 
But  these  two  propensities,  inconsistent  as  they  may  appear, 
can  easily  be  resolved  into  the  same  principle.  Both  spring 
from  our  impatience  of  the  state  in  which  we  actually  are.  ,  .  . 
.  .  .  It  is  now  the  fashion  to  place  the  Golden  Age  of  Eng- 
land in  times  when  noblemen  were  destitute  of  comforts  the 
want  of  which  would  be  intolerable  to  a  modern  footman,  when 
farmers  and  shop-keepers  breakfasted  on  loaves  the  very  sight 
of  which  would  raise  a  riot  in  a  modern  work-house,  when 
men  died  faster  in  the  purest  country  air  than  they  now  die 
in  the  most  pestilential  lanes  of  our  towns,  and  when  men 
died  faster  in  the  lanes  of  our  towns  than  they  now  die  on 
the  coast  of  Guiana.  We  too  shall,  in  our  turn,  be  outstripped, 
and  in  our  turn  be  envied.  It  may  well  be,  in  the  twentieth 
century,  that  the  peasant  of  Dorsetshire  may  think  himself 
miserably  paid  with  fifteen  shillings  a  week  ;  that  the  car- 
penter of  Greenwich  may  receive  ten  shillings  a  day  ;  that 
laboring  men  may  be  as  little  used  to  dine  without  meat  as 
they  now  are  to  eat  rye  bread ;  that  sanitary  police  and  medical 
discoveries  may  have  added  several  more  years  to  the  average 
length  of  human  life ;  that  numerous  comforts  and  luxuries 
which  are  now  unknown,  or  confined  to  a  few,  may  be  within 
the  reach  of  every  diligent  and  thrifty  working-man.  And 
yet  it  may  then  be  the  mode  to  assert  that  the  increase  of 
wealth  and  the  progress  of  science  have  benefited  the  few  at 
the  expense  of  the  many,  and  to  talk  of  the  reign  of  Queen 
Victoria  as  the  time  when  England  was  truly  merry  England, 
when  all  classes  were  bound  together  by  brotherly  sympathy, 
when  the  rich  did  not  grind  the  faces  of  the  poor,  and  when 
the  poor  did  not  envy  the  splendor  of  the  rich. 


3IO 


READINGS  IN  ENGLISH   HISTORY 


Number  ^y 
THE  BILL  OF  RIGHTS   (1689) 

Mabel  Hill,  Liberty  Documents,^  chap.  ix. 

DOCUMENT 
THE   BILL   OF  RIGHTS,  OCT.  25  (1689) 

The  Statutes     An   AcT   FOR   DECLARING   THE    RIGHTS    AND    LIBERTIES 

of  the  Realm,     Qp   ,^^^    SUBJECT,    AND    SETTLING   THE    SUCCESSION    OF 
VI.,  142-145.  ^ 

THE  Crown. 


Based  upon 
the  Declara- 
tion of  Right 
which  accom- 
panied the 
offer  of  the 
Crown  to 
William  and 
Mary.    Feb. 
13,  1689. 


In  early  times 
the  dispens- 
ing power  had 
been  consid- 
ered legal. 


Whereas  the  Lords  Spiritual  and  Temporal, 
and  Commons,  assembled  at  Westminster,  law- 
fully, fully,  and  freely  representing  all  the  estates 
of  the  people  of  this  realm,  did  upon  the  Thirteenth 
day  of  February,  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  One 
Thousand  Six  Hundred  Eighty-eight,  present  unto 
their  Majesties,  then  called  and  known  by  the 
names  and  style  of  William  and  Mary,  Prince 
and  Princess  of  Orange,  being  present  in  their 
proper  persons,  a  certain  Declaration  in  writing, 
made  by  the  said  Lords  and  Commons,  in  the 
words  following,  viz.  :  — 

"  Whereas  the  late  King  James  II.,  by  the 
assistance  of  divers  evil  counsellors,  judges,  and 
ministers  employed  by  him,  did  endeavour  to  sub- 
vert and  extirpate  the  Protestant  religion,  and  the 
laws  and  liberties  of  this  kingdom  :  — 

(I.)  By  assuming  and  exercising  a  power  of 
dispensing  with  and  suspending  of  laws,  and  the 
execution  of  laws,  without  consent  of  Parliament. 

1  Copyright,  1901,  Longmans,  Green,  &  Co. 


ence. 


THE  BILL  OF  RIGHTS  Y1689)  311 

(2.)  By  committing  and  prosecuting  divers 
worthy  prelates,  for  humbly  petitioning  to  be 
excused  from  concurring  to  the  said  assumed 
power. 

(3.)  By  issuing  and  causing  to  be  executed  a 
commission  under  the  Great  Seal  for  erecting  a 
court,  called  the  Court  of  Commissioners  for 
Ecclesiastical  Causes. 

(4.)  By  levying  money  for  and  to  the  use  of  Compare  the 
the  Crown  by  pretence  of  prerogative,  for  other  g°ie°van"^s 
time  and   in   other   manner  than  the  same  was  declaration 
granted  by  Parliament.  of  independ- 

(5.)  By  raising  and  keeping  a  standing  army 
within  this  kingdom  in  time  of  peace,  without 
consent  of  Parliament,  and  quartering  soldiers 
•contrar}'  to  law. 

(6.)  By  causing  several  good  subjects,  being 
Protestants,  to  be  disarmed,  at  the  same  time 
when  Papists  were  both  armed  and  employed 
contrary  to  law. 

(7.)  By  violating  the  freedom  of  election  of 
members  to  serve  in  Parliament. 

(8.)  By  prosecutions  in  the  Court  of  King's 
Bench  for  matters  and  causes  cognizable  only  in 
Parliament ;  and  by  divers  other  arbitrary  and 
illegal  causes. 

(9.)  And  whereas  of  late  years,  partial,  corrupt, 
and  unqualified  persons  have  been  returned,  and 
served  on  juries  in  trials,  and  particularly  diverse 
jurors  in  trials  for  high  treason,  which  were  not 
freeholders. 

(10.)  And  excessive  bail  hath  been  required 
of  persons  committed  in  criminal  cases,  to  elude 


312 


READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 


Summons  to 
the  Conven- 
tion Parlia- 
ment. 


the  benefit  of  the  laws  made  for  the  hberty  of 
the  subjects. 

(II.)  And  excessive  fines  have  been  imposed; 
and  illegal  and  cruel  punishments  inflicted. 

(12.)  And  several  grants  and  promises  made 
of  fines  and  forfeitures,  before  any  conviction  or 
judgment  against  the  persons  upon  whom  the  same 
were  to  be  levied. 

All  which  are  utterly  and  directly  contrary  to  the 
known  laws  and  statutes,  and  freedom  of  this  realm. 

And  whereas  the  said  late  King  James  II.  hav- 
ing abdicated  the  government,  and  the  throne  being 
thereby  vacant,  his  Highness  the  Prince  of  Orange 
(whom  it  hath  pleased  Almighty  God  to  make  the 
glorious  instrument  of  delivering  this  kingdom 
from  Popery  and  arbitrary  power)  did  (by  the  ad- 
vice of  the  Lords  Spiritual  and  Temporal,  and 
diverse  principal  persons  of  the  Commons)  cause 
letters  to  be  written  to  the  Lords  Spiritual  and 
Temporal,  being  Protestants,  and  other  letters  to 
the  several  counties,  cities,  universities,  boroughs, 
and  cinque  ports,  for  the  choosing  of  such  persons 
to  represent  them,  as  were  of  right  to  be  sent  to 
Parliament,  to  meet  and  sit  at  Westminster  upon 
the  two-and-twentieth  day  of  January,  in  the  year 
one  thousand  six  hundred  eighty  and  eight,  in 
order  to  such  an  establishment,  as  that  their  reli- 
gion, laws,  and  liberties  might  not  again  be  in 
danger  of  being  subverted  ;  upon  which  letters 
elections  have  been  accordingly  made. 

And  thereupon  the  said  Lords  Spiritual  and 
Temporal,  and  Commons,  pursuant  to  their  re- 
spective letters  and  elections,  being  now  assembled 


THE  BILL  OF  RIGHTS  (1689)  313 

in  a  full  and  free  representation  of  this  nation, 
takin<2j  into  their  most  serious  consideration  the 
best  means  for  attainin<:(  the  ends  aforesaid,  do  in 
the  first  place  (as  their  ancestors  in  like  case  have 
usually  done),  for  the  vindicating  and  asserting 
their  ancient  rights  and  liberties,  declare  :  — 

(i.)  That  the  pretended  power  of  suspending 
of  laws,  or  the  execution  of  laws,  by  regal  author- 
ity, without  consent  of  Parliament,  is  illegal. 

(2.)  That  the  pretended  power  of  dispensing  with 
laws,  or  the  execution  of  laws  by  regal  authority,  as 
it  hath  been  assumed  and  exercised  of  late,  is  illegal. 

(3.)  That  the  commission  for  erecting  the  late 
Court  of  Commissioners  for  Ecclesiastical  causes, 
and  all  other  commissions  and  courts  of  like  nature, 
are  illegal  and  pernicious. 

(4.)  That  levying  money  for  or  to  the  use  of  the 
Crown  by  pretence  of  prerogative,  w'ithout  grant 
of  Parliament,  for  longer  time  or  in  other  manner 
than  the  same  is  or  shall  be  granted,  is  illegal. 

(5.)  That  it  is  the  right  of  the  subjects  to  peti- 
tion the  King,  and  all  commitments  and  prosecu- 
tions for  such  petitioning  are  illegal. 

(6.)  That  the  raising  or  keeping  a  standing  army 
within  the  kingdom  in  time  of  peace,  unless  it  be 
with  consent  of  Parliament,  is  against  law. 

(7.)  That  the   subjects  which  are   Protestants  From  160510 
may  have  arms  for  their  defence  suitable  to  their  to  enforce 
conditions,  and  as  allowed  by  law.  q^^I^ Yn-'^ ^^ 

(8.)  That  election  of  members  of  Parliament  "ease  of 

V      '  bribery,  time 

ought  to  be  free.  r.eo.  in 

'^  r  1  1     1    1  This  act  first 

(9.)  That  the  freedom  of  speech,  and  debates  enforced  in 
or  proceedings  in   Parliament,  ought  not  to  be  '■*°^" 


314 


READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 


impeached  or  questioned  in  any  court  or  place 
out  of  Parliament, 

(lo.)  That  excessive  bail  ought  not  to  be  re- 
quired, nor  excessive  fines  imposed ;  nor  cruel  and 
unusual  punishments  inflicted. 

(II.)  That  jurors  ought  to  be  duly  impanelled 

and  returned,  and  jurors  which  pass  upon  men  in 

trials  for  high  treason  ought  to  be  freeholders. 

See  Magna  (i2.)  That  all  grants  and  promises  of  fines  and 

XXXV l"'     forfeitures  of  particular  persons  before  conviction 

are  illegal  and  void. 

(13.)  And  that  for  redress  of  all  grievances,  and 
for  the  amending,  strengthening,  and  preser\dng 
of  the  laws.  Parliament  ought  to  be  held  frequently. 

And  they  do  claim,  demand,  and  insist  upon 
■  all  and  singular  the  premises,  as  their  undoubted 
rights  and  liberties ;  and  that  no  declarations, 
judgments,  doings  or  proceedings,  to  the  preju- 
dice of  the  people  in  any  of  the  said  premises, 
ought  in  any  wise  to  be  drawn  hereafter  into  con- 
sequence or  example. 

To  which  demand  of  their  rights  they  are 
particularly  encouraged  by  the  declaration  of  his 
Highness  the  Prince  of  Orange,  as  being  the  only 
means  for  obtaining  a  full  redress  and  remedy 
therein. 

Having  therefore  an  entire  confidence  that  his 
said  Highness  the  Prince  of  Orange  will  perfect 
the  deliverance  so  far  advanced  by  him,  and  will 
still  preserve  them  from  the  violation  of  their 
rights,  which  they  have  here  asserted,  and  from 
all  other  attempts  upon  their  religion,  rights,  and 
liberties : 


THE  BILL  OF  RIGHTS  (1689)  315 

II.  The  said  Lords  Spiritual  and  Temporal, 
and  Commons,  assembled  at  Westminster,  do  re- 
solve, that  William  and  Mary,  Prince  and  Princess 

of  Oranre,  be,  and  be  declared.  King  and  Queen  This  is  the 

1    T      1        1  1     1        J         ■        fi""^*^  official 

of  Enirland,  PVance,  and  Ireland,  and  the  domm-  statement 
ions  thereunto  belonging,  to  hold  the  crown  and  ^.^'^wn  of 
royal  dignity  of  the  said  kingdoms  and  dominions  biTcin'ferred 
to  them  the  said  Prince  and  Princess  during  their  by  Parliament, 
lives,  and  the  life  of  the  survivor  of  them  ;  and 
that  the  sole  and  full  exercise  of  the  regal  power 
be  only  in,  and  executed  by,  the  said  Prince  of 
Orange,   in  the  names  of  the   said   Prince  and 
Princess,  during  their  joint  lives  ;  and  after  their 
deceases,  the   said   Crown  and   royal   dignity  of 
the  said  kingdoms  and  dominions  to  be  to  the 
heirs    of   the    body  of   the    said    Princess ;    and 
for  default  of  such  issue  to  the  Princess  Anne 
of  Denmark,  and  the  heirs  of  her  body  ;  and  for 
default  of  such   issue  to  the  heirs  of  the  body 
of  the  said   Prince  of  Orange.    And  the  Lords 
Spiritual  and  Temporal,  and  Commons,  do  pray 
the  said  Prince  and  Princess  to  accept  the  same 
accordingly. 

III.  And  that  the  oaths  hereafter  mentioned 

be  taken  b\-  all  persons  of  whom  the  oaths  of  New  oath  of 

.  ,  •      J    u      allegiance, 

allegiance  and  supremacy  might  be  required  by  with  suprem- 
law,  instead  of  them  ;  and  that  the  said  oaths  of  ^"^y*^^^^- 
allegiance  and  supremacy  be  abrogated. 

"'  I,  A.  P.,  do  sincerely  promise  and  swear. 
That  I  will  be  faithful  and  bear  true  allegiance 
to  their  Majesties  King  William  and  Queen  Mary: 

"  So  help  me  God." 


3i6 


READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 


Supremacy . 


Agreement 
between 
Crown  and 
Parliament. 


See  Declara- 
tion of  Inde- 
pendence. 


"I,  A,  B.,  do  swear,  That  I  do  from  my  heart 
abhor,  detest,  and  abjure  as  impious  and  heretical 
that  damnable  doctrine  and  position,  that  Princes 
excommunicated  or  deprived  by  the  Pope,  or  any 
authority  of  the  See  of  Rome,  may  be  deposed  or 
murdered  by  their  subjects,  or  any  other  whatso- 
ever. And  I  do  declare,  That  no  foreign  prince, 
person,  prelate,  state,  or  potentate  hath,  or  ought 
to  have,  any  jurisdiction,  power,  superiority,  pre- 
eminence, or  authority,  ecclesiastical  or  spiritual, 
within  this  realm  : 

'"  So  help  me  God  !  " 

IV.  Upon  which  their  said  Majesties  did  ac- 
cept the  Crown  and  royal  dignity  of  the  kingdoms 
of  England,  France,  and  Ireland,  and  the  domin- 
ions thereunto  belonging,  according  to  the  resolu- 
tion and  desire  of  the  said  Lords  and  Commons 
contained  in  the  said  declaration. 

V.  And  thereupon  their  Majesties  were  pleased, 
that  the  said  Lords  Spiritual  and  Temporal,  and 
Commons,  being  the  two  Houses  of  Parliament, 
should  continue  to  sit,  and  with  their  Majesties' 
royal  concurrence  make  effectual  provision  for  the 
settlement  of  the  religion,  laws  and  liberties  of  this 
kingdom,  so  that  the  same  for  the  future  might 
not  be  in  danger  again  of  being  subverted ;  to  which 
the  said  Lords  Spiritual  and  Temporal,  and  Com- 
mons, did  agree  and  proceed  to  act  accordingly. 

VI.  Now  in  pursuance  of  the  premises,  the 
said  Lords  Spiritual  and  Temporal,  and  Com- 
mons, in  Parliament  assembled,  for  the  ratifying, 
confirming,  and  establishing  the  said  declaration, 


THE   RITJ.  OF  RIGHTS  0689)  317 

and  the  articles,  clauses,  matters,  and  things  therein 
contained,  by  the  force  of  a  law  made  in  due  form 
by  authority  of  Parliament,  do  pray  that  it  may  be 
declared  and  enacted.  That  all  and  singular  the 
rights  and  liberties  asserted  and  claimed  in  the 
same  declaration  are  the  true,  ancient,  and  indu- 
bitable rights  and  liberties  of  the  people  of  this 
kingdom,  and  so  shall  be  esteemed,  allowed,  ad- 
judged, deemed,  and  taken  to  be,  and  that  all  and 
every  the  particulars  aforesaid  shall  be  firmly  and 
strictly  holden  and  observed,  as  they  are  expressed 
in  the  same  declaration  ;  and  all  officers  and  min- 
isters whatsoever  shall  serve  their  Majesties  and 
their  successors  according  to  the  same  in  all  times 
to  come.   .  .  . 

IX.  And  whereas  it  hath  been  found  by  experi- 
ence, that  it  is  inconsistent  with  the  safety  and  Exclusion 
welfare  of  this  Protestant  kingdom,  to  be  governed 
by  a  Popish  prince,  or  by  any  king  or  queen  marry- 
ing a  Papist,  the  said  Lords  Spiritual  and  Temporal, 
and  Commons,  do  further  pray  that  it  may  be  en- 
acted. That  all  and  ever}^  person  and  persons  that 
is,  are,  or  shall  be  reconciled  to,  or  shall  hold 
communion  with,  the  See  or  Church  of  Rome,  or 
shall  profess  the  Popish  religion,  or  shall  marry  a 
Papist,  shall  be  excluded,  and  be  for  ever  incapa- 
ble to  inherit,  possess,  or  enjoy  the  Crown  and 
Government  of  this  realm,  and  Ireland,  and  the 
dominions  thereunto  belonging,  or  any  part  of  the 
same,  or  to  have,  use,  or  exercise  any  regal  power, 
authority,  or  jurisdiction  within  the  same  ;  and  in 
all  and  every  such  case  or  cases  the  people  of 
these  realms  shall  be  and  are  hereby  absolved  of 


3l8  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH   HISTORY 

their  allegiance  ;  and  the  said  Crown  and  Gov- 
ernment shall  from  time  to  time  descend  to,  and 
be  enjoyed  by,  such  person  or  persons,  being  Prot- 
estants, as  should  have  inherited  and  enjoyed  the 
same,  in  case  the  said  person  or  persons  so  recon- 
ciled, holding  communion,  or  professing,  or  marry- 
ing, as  aforesaid,  were  naturally  dead. 

X.  And  that  every  King  and  Queen  of  this 
Future  realm,  who  at  any  time  hereafter  shall  come  to 

and  succeed  in  the  Imperial  Crown  of  this  king- 
dom, shall,  on  the  first  day  of  the  meeting  of  the 
first  Parliament,  next  after  his  or  her  coming  to 
the  Crown,  sitting  in  his  or  her  throne  in  the 
House  of  Peers,  in  the  presence  of  the  Lords  and 
Commons  therein  assembled,  or  at  his  or  her 
coronation,  before  such  person  or  persons  who 
shall  administer  the  coronation  oath  to  him  or 
her,  at  the  time  of  his  or  her  taking  the  said 
oath  (which  shall  first  happen),  make,  subscribe, 
and  audibly  repeat  the  declaration  mentioned  in 
the  statute  made  in  the  thirteenth  year  of  the  reign 
of  King  Charles  II.,  intituled  "An  act  for  the  more 
effectual  preserving  the  King's  person  and  Gov- 
ernment, by  disabling  Papists  from  sitting  in  either 
House  of  Parliament."  But  if  it  shall  happen,  that 
such  King  or  Queen,  upon  his  or  her  succession 
to  the  Crown  of  this  realm,  shall  be  under  the  age 
of  twelve  years,  then  every  such  King  or  Queen 
shall  make,  subscribe,  and  audibly  repeat  the  said 
declaration  at  his  or  her  coronation,  or  the  first  day 
of  meeting  of  the  first  Parliament  as  aforesaid, 
which  shall  first  happen  after  such  King  or  Queen 
shall  have  attained  the  said  age  of  twelve  years. 


TMK    IJILL  ()!■    RIOIITS  (1689)  319 

XI.  All  which   their   Majesties  are  contented 

and  pleased  shall  be  declared,  enacted,  and  estab-  Enacting 
lished  by  authority  of  this  present  Parliament,  and 
shall  stand,  remain,  and  be  the  law  of  this  realm 
for  ever  ;  and  the  same  are  by  their  said  Majesties, 
by  and  with  the  advice  and  consent  of  the  Lords 
Spiritual  and  Temporal,  and  Commons,  in  Parlia- 
ment assembled,  and  by  the  authority  of  the  same, 
declared,  enacted,  or  established  accordingly. 

XII.  And  be  it  further  declared  and  enacted 

by  the  authority  aforesaid,  That  from  and  after  Dispensing 
this  present  session  of  Parliament,  no  dispensation  removed, 
by  lion  obstante  of  or  to  any  statute,  or  any  part 
thereof,  shall  be  allowed,  but  that  the  same  shall 
be  held  void  and  of  no  effect,  except  a  dispensa- 
tion be  allowed  of  in  such  statute,  and  except  in 
such  cases  as  shall  be  specially  provided  for  by 
one  or  more  bill  or  bills  to  be  passed  during  this 
present  session  of  Parliament. 

XIII.  Provided  that  no  charter,  or  grant,  or 
pardon  granted  before  the  three-and-twentieth  day 
of  October,  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  One  thousand 
six  hundred  eighty-nine,  shall  .be  an\-  ways  im- 
peached or  invalidated  by  this  Act,  but  that  the 
same  shall  be  and  remain  of  the  same  force  and 
effect  in  law,  and  no  other,  than  as  if  this  Act  had 
never  been  made. 


320  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

CRITICAL  COMMENT 

LUFFMAN    (1792) 

The  Constitution  of  England,  as  established  under  the 
sacred  authority  of  Magna  Charta,  had,  at  the  crisis  which 
produced  the  Bill  of  Rights,  become  very  much  impaired  by 
the  many  encroachments  which  some  of  the  succeeding  kings 
from  the  time  of  John  made  upon  its  equitable  form.  .  .  . 
The  moment  that  the  Declaration  of  Right  was  made  on  the 
behalf  of  the  English  People  and  acknowledged  by  the  Prince 
of  Orange  and  his  consort  as  the  supreme  law,  in  future  to 
be  observed,  at  that  instant  the  constitution  was  renovated, 
the  power  of  the  crown  was  acknowledged  to  flow  from  its 
only  natural  source,  the  people,  and  a  reciprocal  interest,  pro- 
ceeding from  allegiance  on  one  part  and  protection  on  the 
other,  formed  the  guarantee  of  the  monarch's  prerogative 
and  the  people's  freedom. 

J.  LuFFMAN,  Citizen  and  Goldstnith,  a  pamphlet. 


Macaulav  (1849) 

This  revolution,  of  all  revolutions  the  least  violent,  has 
been  of  all  revolutions  the  most  beneficent.  It  finally  decided 
the  great  question  whether  the  popular  element  which  had, 
ever  since  the  age  of  Fitzwalter  and  De  Montfort,  been  found 
in  the  English  polity,  should  be  destroyed  by  the  monarchical 
element,  or  should  be  suffered  to  develop  itself  freely,  and 
to  become  dominant.  The  strife  between  the  two  principles 
had  been  long,  fierce,  and  doubtful.  It  had  lasted  through 
four  reigns.  It  had  produced  seditions,  impeachments,  re- 
bellions,   battles,    sieges,    proscriptions,    judicial    massacres. 


THE  BILL  OK  RIGHTS  (1689)  321 

Sometimes  liberty,  sometimes  royalty,  had  seemed  to  be  on 
the  point  of  perishing.  During  many  years  one  half  of  the 
energy  of  England  had  been  employed  in  counteracting  the 
other  half.  The  executive  power  and  the  legislative  power 
had  so  effectually  impeded  each  other  that  the  state  had  been 
of  no  account  in  Europe.  The  king-at-arms,  who  proclaimed 
William  and  Mary  before  Whitehall  Gate,  did  in  truth  an- 
nounce that  this  great  struggle  was  over ;  that  there  was 
entire  union  between  the  throne  and  the  Parliament ;  that 
England,  long  dependent  and  degraded,  was  again  a  power 
of  the  first  rank  ;  that  the  ancient  laws  by  which  the  prerog- 
ative was  bounded  would  thenceforth  be  held  as  sacred  as 
the  prerogative  itself,  and  would  be  followed  out  to  all  their 
consequences  ;  that  the  executive  administration  would  be 
conducted  in  conformity  with  the  sense  of  the  representa- 
tives of  the  nation  ;  and  that  no  reform  which  the  two 
houses  should,  after  mature  deliberation,  propose,  would  be 
obstinately  withstood  by  the  sovereign.  The  Declaration  of 
Rights,  though  it  made  nothing  law  which  had  not  been  law 
before,  contained  the  germ  of  the  law  which  gave  religious 
freedom  to  tiie  Dissenter,  of  the  law  which  secured  the  in- 
dependence of  the  judges,  of  the  law  which  limited  the  dura- 
tion of  Parliaments,  of  the  law  which  placed  the  liberty  of 
the  press  under  the  protection  of  juries,  of  the  law  which 
prohibited  the  slave-trade,  of  the  law  which  abolished  the 
sacramental  test,  of  the  law  which  relieved  the  Roman  Catho- 
lics from  civil  disabilities,  of  the  law  which  reformed  the  rep- 
resentative system,  of  every  good  law  which  has  been  passed 
during  a  hundred  and  sixty  years,  of  every  good  law  which 
may  hereafter,  in  the  course  of  ages,  be  found  necessary 
to  promote  the  public  weal,  and  to  satisfy  the  demands  of 
public  opinion. 

T.  B.  Macaulav,  Histoiy  of  England.    111.   518. 


32  2  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

J.  R.  Green  (1874) 

The  Declaration  of  Rights  was  turned  into  the  Bill  of  Rights 
by  the  Convention  which  had  now  become  a  Parliament,  and 
the  passing  of  this  measure  in  1689  restored  to  the  monarchy 
the  character  which  it  had  lost  under  the  Tudors  and  Stuarts. 
.  .  .  Since  their  day  [William  and  Mar)']  no  English  sover- 
eign has  been  able  to  advance  any  claims  to  the  crown  save 
a  claim  which  has  rested  on  a  particular  clause  in  a  particular 
Act  of  Parliament.  ..."  An  English  monarch  is  now  as 
much  the  creature  of  an  Act  of  Parliament  as  the  petty  tax- 
gatherer  in  his  realm. 

J.  R.  Green,  Short  History  of  the  English  People.    688-689. 

Tasweix-Laxgmead  (1879) 

The  Revolution  of  1688  marks  at  once  a  resting-place  and 
a  fresh  point  of  departure  in  the  history  of  the  English  Con- 
stitution. The  Bill  of  Rights  was  a  summing  up,  as  it  were, 
and  final  establishment  of  the  Legal  bases  of  the  Constitu- 
tion. With  Magna  Charta  and  the  Petition  of  Right  it  forms 
the  Legal  Constitutional  Code  to  which  no  additions  of  equal 
importance  (except  the  Constitutional  provisions  of  the  Act 
of  Settlement  to  be  presently  noticed)  have  since  been  made 
by  Legislative  enactment.  Political  progress  has  indeed,  from 
time  to  time,  left  its  mark  on  the  statute-book,  in  laws  the 
importance  of  which  can  hardly  be  exaggerated.  But  even 
the  greatest  of  these  enactments  .  .  .  have  been  of  the  nature 
of  amendments  to  the  machinery  of  the  Constitution,  supply- 
ing defects  and  correcting  abuses,  rather  than  alterations  in 
the  great  Constitutional  principles  finally  established  by  the 
Revolution. 

T.  P.  Taswell-Lancmead,  English  Constitutional  History.    550. 


THE   DILL  Ol'    KKliriS  (1689)  323 

J.    K.    IIOSMKR  (189O) 

The  monarchy  as  limited  in  the  thirteenth  century  had 
conic  down  to  the  seventeenth  century.  Padiament  had  be- 
hind it  a  past  of  four  hundred  years.  The  constitution  was 
not  formulated,  but  its  principles,  scattered  throughout  time- 
honoured  statutes,  were  engraven  on  the  hearts  of  English- 
men. .  .  .  Not  a  single  new  right  was  given  to  the  people  ; 
the  whole  body  of  ICnglish  law  was  unchanged  ;  all  was 
conducted  in  obedience  to  the  ancient  formalities. 

J.  K.  HosMER,  Anglo-Saxon  Freedom.    169. 

Stf.vexs  ( 1 894) 

The  Bill  of  Rights  of  the  time  of  William  and  Mary  finally 
declares,  "  that  levying  money  for  or  to  the  use  of  the  crown 
by  pretense  of  prerogative  without  grant  of  Parliament  for 
longer  time,  or  in  other  manner  than  the  same  is  or  shall  be 
granted,  is  illegal."  It  is  not  too  much  to  say,  that  the  prin- 
ciple lies  at  the  foundation  of  all  others  in  the  P2nglish  con- 
stitution, and  is  a  chief  source  of  modern  liberties. 

C.  E.  Stevf,>'s,  Sources  of  the  Constitution.    1  14. 


Ransome  (1895) 

The  Declaration  of  Right,  which  afterwards  was  turned 
into  an  act  of  parliament  under  the  title  of  the  Bill  of  Rights, 
is  one  of  the  most  important  documents  in  English  histor)-. 
It  brought  to  a  close  the  great  struggle  between  the  king  and 
the  parliament,  which  had  lasted  nearly  one  hundred  years, 
by  defining  the  law^  on  a  number  of  disputed  points,  all  of 
which  had,  during  this  period,  been  matters  of  protest  on  the 
side  of  the  parliament.  .  .  . 


324  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

The  effect  of  the  Revolution  was  threefold.  In  the  first 
place,  it  destroyed  the  Stuart  theory  of  the  divine  right  of 
kings,  .  .  .  by  setting  up  a  king  and  queen  who  owed  their 
position  to  the  choice  of  parliament.  In  the  second,  it  gave 
an  opportunity  for  reasserting  the  principles  of  the  English 
constitution  which  it  had  been  the  aim  of  the  Stuarts  to  set 
aside.  In  the  third,  it  began  what  may  be  called  the  reign 
of  Parliament.  Up  to  the  Revolution  there  is  no  doubt  that 
the  guiding  force  in  directing  the  policy  of  the  nation  had 
been  the  will  of  the  king.  Since  the  Revolution  the  guiding 
force  has  been  the  will  of  the  parliament. 

CvRiL  Raxsome,  Advanced  History  of  England.    664,  665. 


Number  ^8 
THE  CHARACTER  OF  WILLIAM  III 

Thomas  Babington  Macaulay.    Histoiy  0/  England  frot?i  the  Accession 
of  James  //,  Vol.  II,  pp.  i^g-ij2,  />ass/>n. 

The  place  which  William  Henry,  prince  of  Orange  Nassau, 
occupies  in  the  history  of  England  and  of  mankind  is  so  great 
that  it  may  be  desirable  to  portray  with  some  minuteness  the 
strong  lineaments  of  his  character. 

He  was  now  in  his  thirty-seventh  year.  But  both  in  body 
and  in  mind  he  was  older  than  other  men  of  the  same  age. 
Indeed,  it  might  be  said  that  he  had  never  been  young.  His 
external  appearance  is  almost  as  well  known  to  us  as  to  his 
own  captains  and  counselors.  Sculptors,  painters,  and  medal- 
lists exerted  their  utmost  skill  in  the  work  of  transmitting 
his  features  to  posterity  ;  and  his  features  were  such  as  no 
artist  could  fail  to  seize,  and  such  as,  once  seen,  could  never 
be  forgotten.    His  name  at  once  calls  up  before  us  a  slender 


THE  CHARACTER  OV  WILLIAM   HI  325 

and  feeble  frame,  a  lofty  and  ample  forehead,  a  nose  curved 
like  the  beak  of  an  eagle,  an  eye  rivaling  that  of  an  eagle  in 
brightness  and  keenness,  a  thoughtful  and  somewhat  sullen 
brow,  a  firm  and  somewhat  peevish  mouth,  a  cheek  pale,  thin, 
and  deeply  furrowed  by  sickness  and  by  care.  That  pensive, 
severe,  and  solemn  aspect  could  scarcely  have  belonged  to  a 
happy  or  a  good-humored  man.  But  it  indicates  in  a  manner 
not  to  be  mistaken  capacity  equal  to  the  most  arduous  enter- 
prises, and  fortitude  not  to  be  shaken  by  reverses  or  dangers. 
Nature  had  largely  endowed  William  with  the  qualities  of 
a  great  ruler,  and  education  had  developed  those  qualities  in 
no  common  degree.  Witii  strong  natural  sense  and  rare  force 
of  will,  he  found  himself,  when  first  his  mind  began  to  open, 
a  fatherless  and  motherless  child,  the  chief  of  a  great  but  de- 
pressed and  disheartened  party,  and  the  heir  to  vast  and  in- 
definite pretensions,  which  excited  the  dread  and  aversion  of 
the  oligarchy,  then  supreme  in  the  United  Provinces.  The 
common  people,  fondly  attached  during  a  century  to  his 
house,  indicated  whenever  they  saw  him,  in  a  manner  not 
to  be  mistaken,  that  they  regarded  him  as  their  rightful  head. 
The  able  and  experienced  ministers  of  the  Republic,  mortal 
enemies  of  his  name,  came  every  day  to  pay  their  feigned 
civilities  to  him,  and  to  observe  the  progress  of  his  mind. 
The  first  movements  of  his  ambition  were  carefully  watched  ; 
ever)'  unguarded  word  uttered  by  him  was  noted  down  ;  nor 
had  he  near  him  any  adviser  on  whose  judgment  reliance 
could  be  placed.  He  was  scarcely  fifteen  years  old  when  all 
the  domestics  who  were  attached  to  his  interest,  or  who  en- 
joyed any  share  of  his  confidence,  were  removed  from  under 
his  roof  by  the  jealous  government.  He  remonstrated  with 
energy  beyond  his  years,  but  in  vain.  Vigilant  observers  saw 
the  tears  more  than  once  rise  in  the  eyes  of  the  young  state 
prisoner.     His   health,   naturally   delicate,   sank  for  a  time 


326  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

under  the  emotions  which  his  desolate  situation  had  produced. 
Such  situations  bewilder  and  unnerve  the  weak,  but  call  forth 
all  the  strength  of  the  strong.  Surrounded  by  snares  in  which 
an  ordinary  youth  would  have  perished,  William  learned  to 
tread  at  once  warily  and  firmly.  Long  before  he  reached 
manhood  he  knew  how  to  keep  secrets,  how  to  baffle  curi- 
osity by  dry  and  guarded  answers,  how  to  conceal  all  passions 
under  the  same  show^  of  grave  tranquillity.   .   .   . 

.  .  .  Since  Octavius  the  world  had  seen  no  such  instance 
of  precocious  statesmanship.  Skillful  diplomatists  were  sur- 
prised to  hear  the  weighty  observations  which  at  seventeen  the 
prince  made  on  public  affairs,  and  still  more  surprised  to  see 
the  lad,  in  situations  in  which  he  might  have  been  expected 
to  betray  strong  passion,  preserve  a  composure  as  imperturb- 
able as  their  own.  At  eighteen  he  sat  among  the  fathers  of  the 
Commonwealth,  grave,  discreet,  and  judicious  as  the  oldest 
among  them.  At  twenty-one,  in  a  day  of  gloom  and  terror, 
he  was  placed  at  the  head  of  the  administration.  At  twenty- 
three  he  was  renowned  throughout  Europe  as  a  soldier  and  a 
politician.  He  had  put  domestic  factions  under  his  feet ;  he 
was  the  soul  of  a  mighty  coalition  ;  and  he  had  contended 
with  honor  in  the  field  against  some  of  the  greatest  generals 
of  the  age. 

His  personal  tastes  were  those  rather  of  a  warrior  than  of 
a  statesman  ;  but  he,  like  his  great-grandfather,  the  silent 
prince  who  founded  the  Batavian  commonwealth,  occupies  a 
far  higher  place  among  statesmen  than  among  warriors.  .  .  . 
He  had  been  placed,  while  still  a  boy,  at  the  head  of  an  army. 
Among  his  officers  there  had  been  none  competent  to  instruct 
him.  His  own  blunders  and  their  consequences  had  been 
his  only  lessons.  "  I  would  give,"  he  once  exclaimed,  "a  good 
part  of  my  estates  to  have  served  a  few  campaigns  under 
the  Prince  of  Conde  before  I  had  to  command  against  him." 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  WH.LIAM  HI  327 

It  is  not  improbable  that  the  circumstanee  which  prevented 
WiUiam  from  attaining  any  eminent  dexterity  in  strategy  may 
have  been  favorable  to  the  general  vigor  of  his  intellect.  If 
his  battles  were  not  those  of  a  great  tactician,  they  entitled 
him  to  be  called  a  great  man.  No  disaster  could  for  one 
moment  deprive  him  of  his  firmness  or  of  the  entire  posses- 
sion of  all  his  faculties.  His  defeats  were  repaired  with  such 
marvelous  celerity  that,  before  his  enemies  had  sung  the 
Te  Deum,  he  was  again  ready  for  conflict ;  nor  did  his  ad- 
verse fortune  ever  deprive  him  of  the  respect  and  confidence 
of  his  soldiers.  That  respect  and  confidence  he  owed  in  no 
small  measure  to  his  personal  courage.  Courage  in  the  de- 
gree which  is  necessary  to  carry  a  soldier  without  disgrace 
through  a  campaign  is  possessed,  or  might,  under  proper 
training,  be  acquired,  by  the  great  majority  of  men  ;  but  cour- 
age like  that  of  William  is  rare  indeed.  He  was  proved  by 
every  test ;  by  war,  by  wounds,  by  painful  and  depressing 
maladies,  by  raging  seas,  by  the  imminent  and  constant  risk 
of  assassination,  a  risk  which  has  shaken  very  strong  nerves, 
a  risk  which  severely  tried  even  the  adamantine  fortitude  of 
Cromwell ;  yet  none  could  ever  discover  w^hat  that  thing  was 
which  the  Prince  of  Orange  feared.  .  .  .  And,  in  truth,  more 
than  one  day  which  had  seemed  hopelessly  lost  was  retrieved 
by  the  hardihood  with  which  he  rallied  his  broken  battalions, 
and  cut  down  with  his  own  hand  the  cowards  who  set  the 
example  of  flight.  Sometimes,  however,  it  seemed  that  he 
had  a  strange  pleasure  in  venturing  his  person.  It  w^as  re- 
marked that  his  spirits  were  never  so  high  and  his  manners 
never  so  gracious  and  easy  as  amid  the  tumult  and  carnage 
of  a  battle.  Even  in  his  pastimes  he  liked  the  excitement  of 
danger.  Cards,  chess,  and  billiards  gave  him  no  pleasure. 
The  chase  was  his  favorite  recreation  ;  and  he  loved  it  most 
when  it  was  most  hazardous.    His  leaps  were  sometimes  such 


328  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

that  his  boldest  companions  did  not  like  to  follow  him.  He 
seems  even  to  have  thought  the  most  hardy  field-sports  of 
England  effeminate,  and  to  have  pined  in  the  great  park  of 
Windsor  for  the  game  which  he  had  been  used  to  drive  to 
bay  in  the  forests  of  Guelders,  wolves,  and  wild  boars,  and 
huge  stags  with  sixteen  antlers. 

The  audacity  of  his  spirit  was  the  more  remarkable  because 
his  physical  organization  was  unusually  delicate.  From  a  child 
he  had  been  weak  and  sickly.  In  the  prime  of  manhood  his 
complaints  had  been  aggravated  by  a  severe  attack  of  small- 
pox. He  was  asthmatic  and  consumptive.  His  slender  frame 
was  shaken  by  a  constant  hoarse  cough.  He  could  not  sleep 
unless  his  head  was  propped  by  several  pillows,  and  could 
scarcely  draw  his  breath  in  any  but  the  purest  air.  Cruel 
headaches  frequently  tortured  him.  Exertion  soon  fatigued 
him.  The  physicians  constantly  kept  up  the  hopes  of  his 
enemies  by  fixing  some  date  beyond  which,  if  there  were 
any  thing  certain  in  medical  science,  it  was  impossible  that 
his  broken  constitution  could  hold  out.  Yet,  through  a  life 
which  was  one  long  disease,  the  force  of  his  mind  never 
failed,  on  any  great  occasion,  to  bear  up  his  suffering  and 
languid  body. 

He  was  born  with  violent  passions  and  quick  sensibilities ; 
but  the  strength  of  his  emotions  was  not  suspected  by  the 
world.  From  the  multitude,  his  joy  and  his  grief,  his  affec- 
tion and  his  resentment,  were  hidden  by  a  phlegmatic  seren- 
ity, which  made  him  pass  for  the  most  cold-blooded  of 
mankind.  Those  who  brought  him  good  news  could  seldom 
detect  any  sign  of  pleasure.  Those  who  saw  him  after  a  de- 
feat looked  in  vain  for  any  trace  of  vexation.  He  praised  and 
reprimanded,  rewarded  and  punished,  with  the  stern  tran- 
quillity of  a  Mohawk  chief ;  but  those  who  knew  him  well 
and  saw  him  near  were  aware  that  under  all  this  ice  a  fierce 


THE  CHARACTER  OE  WHJTAM  HI  329 

fire  was  constantly  burning.  It  was  seldom  that  anger  de- 
prived him  of  power  over  himself ;  but  when  he  was  really 
enraged,  the  first  outbreak  of  his  passion  was  terrible.  It  was, 
indeed,  scarcely  safe  to  approach  him.  On  these  rare  occa- 
sions, however,  as  soon  as  he  regained  his  self-command,  he 
made  such  ample  reparation  to  those  whom  he  had  wronged 
as  tempted  them  to  wish  that  he  would  go  into  a  fury  again. 
His  affection  was  as  impetuous  as  his  wrath.  Where  he  loved, 
he  loved  with  the  whole  energy  of  his  strong  mind.  When 
death  separated  him  from  what  he  loved,  the  few  who  wit- 
nessed his  agonies  trembled  for  his  reason  and  his  life.  To 
a  very  small  circle  of  intimate  friends,  on  whose  fidelity 
and  secrecy  he  could  absolutely  depend,  he  was  a  different 
man  from  the  reserved  and  stoical  William  whom  the  multi- 
tude supposed  to  be  destitute  of  human  feelings.  He  was 
kind,  cordial,  open,  even  convivial  and  jocose,  would  sit 
at  table  many  hours,  and  would  bear  his  full  share  in  festive 
conversation.   .   .   . 

He  .  .  .  long  observed  the  contest  between  the  English 
factions  attentively,  but  without  feeling  a  strong  predilection 
for  either  side  ;  nor,  in  truth,  did  he  ever,  to  the  end  of  his 
life,  become  either  a  Whig  or  a  Tory.  He  wanted  that  which 
is  the  common  groundwork  of  both  characters,  for  he  never 
became  an  Englishman.  He  saved  England,  it  is  true,  but 
he  never  loved  her,  and  he  never  obtained  her  love.  To  him 
she  was  always  a  land  of  exile,  visited  with  reluctance,  and 
quitted  with  delight.  Even  when  he  rendered  to  her  those 
services  of  which,  at  this  day,  we  feel  the  happy  effects,  her 
welfare  was  not  his  chief  object.  Whatever  patriotic  feeling 
he  had  was  for  Holland.  There  was  the  stately  tomb  where 
slept  the  great  politician  whose  blood,  whose  name,  whose 
temperament,  and  whose  genius  he  had  inherited.  There  the 
very  sound  of  his  title  was  a  spell  which  had,  through  three 


T^T^O  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH   HISTORY 

generations,  called  forth  the  affectionate  enthusiasm  of  boors 
and  artisans.  .  .  .  Yet  even  his  affection  for  the  land  of  his 
birth  was  subordinate  to  another  feeling  which  early  became 
supreme  in  his  soul,  which  mixed  itself  with  all  his  passions, 
which  impelled  him  to  marvelous  enterprises,  which  supported 
him  when  sinking  under  mortification,  pain,  sickness,  and 
sorrow,  which,  toward  the  close  of  his  career,  seemed  during 
a  short  time  to  languish,  but  which  soon  broke  forth  again 
fiercer  than  ever,  and  continued  to  animate  him  even  while 
the  prayer  for  the  departing  was  read  at  his  bedside.  That 
feeling  was  enmity  to  France,  and  to  the  magnificent  king 
who,  in  more  than  one  sense,  represented  France,  and  who, 
to  virtues  and  accomplishments  eminently  French,  joined  in 
large  measure  that  unquiet,  unscrupulous,  and  vainglorious 
ambition  which  has  repeatedly  drawn  on  France  the  resent- 
ment of  Europe. 

It  is  not  difficult  to  trace  the  progress  of  the  sentiment 
which  gradually  possessed  itself  of  William's  whole  soul. 
When  he  was  little  more  than  a  boy,  his  countr\^  had  been 
attacked  by  Louis  in  ostentatious  defiance  of  justice  and 
public  law,  had  been  overrun,  had  been  desolated,  had  been 
given  up  to  every'  excess  of  rapacity,  licentiousness,  and 
cruelty.  The  Dutch  had,  in  dismay,  humbled  themselves  be- 
fore the  conqueror,  and  had  implored  mercy.  They  had  been 
told,  in  reply,  that  if  they  desired  peace,  they  must  resign 
their  independence,  and  do  annual  homage  to  the  house  of 
Bourbon.  The  injured  nation,  driven  to  despair,  had  opened 
its  dikes,  and  had  called  in  the  sea  as  an  ally  against  the 
French  tyranny.  It  was  in  the  agony  of  that  conflict,  when 
peasants  were  flying  in  terror  before  the  invaders,  when 
hundreds  of  fair  gardens  and  pleasure-houses  were  buried  be- 
neath the  waves,  when  the  deliberations  of  the  States  were 
interrupted  by  the  fainting  and  the  loud  weeping  of  ancient 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  WILLIAM  III  33 1 

senators  who  could  not  bear  the  thought  of  surviving  the 
freedom  and  glory  of  their  native  land,  that  William  had  been 
called  to  the  head  of  affairs.  For  a  time  it  seemed  to  him 
that  resistance  was  hopeless.  He  looked  round  for  succor, 
and  looked  in  vain.  Spain  was  unnerved,  Germany  distracted, 
England  corrupted.  Nothing  seemed  left  to  the  young  stadt- 
holder  but  to  perish  sword  in  hand,  or  to  be  the  ^neas  of 
a  great  emigration,  and  to  create  another  Holland  in  coun- 
tries beyond  the  reach  of  the  tyranny  of  France.  No  obstacle 
would  then  remain  to  check  the  progress  of  the  house  of 
Bourbon.  .  .   . 

The  feeling  with  which  William  regarded  France  explains 
the  whole  of  his  policy  toward  England.  His  public  spirit 
was  a  European  public  spirit.  The  chief  object  of  his  care 
was  not  our  island,  not  even  his  native  Holland,  but  the  great 
community  of  nations  threatened  with  subjugation  by  one  too 
powerful  member.  Those  who  commit  the  error  of  consider- 
ing him  as  an  English  statesman  must  necessarily  see  his 
whole  life  in  a  false  light,  and  will  be  unable  to  discover  any 
principle,  good  or  bad,  Whig  or  Tor/,  to  which  his  most 
important  acts  can  be  referred  ;  but  when  we  consider  him 
as  a  man  whose  especial  task  was  to  join  a  crowd  of  feeble, 
divided,  and  dispirited  states  in  firm  and  energetic  union 
against  a  common  enemy,  when  we  consider  him  as  a  man 
in  whose  eyes  England  was  important  chiefly  because,  with- 
out her,  the  great  coalition  which  he  projected  must  be  in- 
complete, we  shall  be  forced  to  admit  that  no  long  career 
recorded  in  history  has  been  more  uniform  from  the  begin- 
ning to  the  close  than  that  of  this  great  prince. 


0  02  READINGS  IX   ENGLISH   HISTORY 


Nutnber  ^g 
THE  DUKE  OF  MARLBOROUGH 

E.  E.  Morris.    The  Age  of  Atme,  pp.  27-30. 

The  real  hero  of  this  [Anne's]  reign,  the  successor  of  King 
Wilham  in  his  poHcy  of  consistent  opposition  to  France,  was 
John  Churchill,  Duke  of  Marlborough.  In  this  man  were 
united  the  noblest  and  the  meanest  qualities,  and  it  is  there- 
fore difficult  to  form  a  just  estimate  of  him.  For  our  pur- 
pose it  will  be  sufficient  to  pass  very  quickly  over  his  earlier 
life,  and  to  give  a  short  sketch  of  his  character.  Fortunately 
for  us,  at  this  point  in  his  career,  "  that  great  man  is  already 
shaking  off  the  slough  of  his  baser  life."  Marlborough,  as  a 
young  man,  was  attached  to  the  household  of  James,  Duke 
of  York,  ...  At  the  age  of  twenty-three  he  served  in  a 
campaign  against  the  Dutch  under  the  great  Turenne,  whose 
favourable  notice  he  attracted.  He  rose  quickly  through  the 
different  military  grades,  and  shortly  after  James's  accession 
to  the  throne  he  commanded  the  English  troops  sent  against 
the  Pretender,  Monmouth,  whom  he  defeated  at  the  battle  of 
Sedgemoor.  James  wished  him  to  become  a  Roman  Catholic  ; 
but  from  this  step  he  shrank,  and  when  afterwards  the  Revolu- 
tion took  place,  this  proposal  was  the  reason  that  he  gave 
for  his  desertion.  James,  placing  implicit  trust  in  him,  sent 
Churchill  forward  with  troops  against  William's  invading 
army.  Instead  of  fighting  William,  he  joined  him.  During 
William's  reign  he  is,  at  the  beginning,  in  positions  of  trust, 
but  he  himself  does  not  seem  certain  as  to  his  future,  or 
genuine  in  his  sympathy  with  the  Revolution  ;  for,  though 
he  held  high  office  under  William,  he  yet  intrigued  with, 
the  exiled  James,  probably  wishing  to  be  safe  whichever  side 


THE  DUKE  OF  M ARTJ'.OROX'GIT  333 

triumphed.  William  discovered  his  secret  correspondence  with 
the  Jacobites,  and  dismissed  him  from  all  his  employments. 
Marlborough  boasted  of  having  betrayed  to  James,  and  so 
to  the  French,  the  secret  of  an  enterprise  that  the  English 
were  about  to  make  against  Brest ;  which  betrayal  led  to  the 
failure  of  the  attempt,  and  the  loss  of  the  commander  with 
800  men.  Yet  before  William's  death  Marlborough  was  rec- 
onciled to  him,  and  as  we  have  seen  was  entrusted  by  him  with 
the  important  office  of  governor  to  the  young  Duke  of  Glou- 
cester. It  is  also  said  that  William,  when  contemplating  the 
War  of  the  Spanish  Succession,  designed  that  Marlborough 
should  command  the  armies  of  the  Grand  Alliance. 

It  will  be  evident,  from  the  above  sketch,  that  if  we  begin 
with  Marlborough's  bad  qualities,  that  which  taints  all  his 
character  and  all  his  actions  is  self-seeking,  which  did  not 
hesitate  to  use  even  treachery  as  its  instrument.  Nor  was  his 
treachery  only  a  willingness  to  shift  allegiance.  The  genera- 
tion amongst  which  he  had  been  brought  up,  which  had  seen 
the  days  of  the  Commonwealth,  and  of  the  restored  Stuarts, 
and.  finally,  had  consigned  the  Stuarts  again  to  exile,  must 
have  held  but  lightly  by  the  duty  of  allegiance.  But  Marl- 
borough's was  no  common  treachery,  no  ordinar}'  laxity  of 
principles  in  high  places.  If  others  left  James  easily,  grati- 
tude should  have  kept  him,  at  least,  by  his  side.  The  impart- 
ing of  information  of  a  military  expedition  to  the  rulers  of  a 
countr)'  with  which  his  own  was  at  war  can  be  excused  by 
no  blaze  of  glory ;  nor  can  we  palliate  the  sending  of  money 
to  assist  a  rival  to  his  sovereign's  throne.  The  self-interest, 
which  seems  to  have  been  the  leading  motive  of  conduct  both 
in  Marlboroufrh  and  in  his  wife,  sometimes  assumed  the  baser 
shape  of  an  inordinate  love  of  money.  A  nobleman,  who  was 
once  mobbed  by  mistake  for  Marlborough  in  the  time  of  his 
unpopularity,  indulged  in  this  sarcasm  at  his  expense —  "  I  will 


334  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

easily  convince  you  that  I  am  not  my  Lord  Marlborough.  In 
the  first  place,  .1  have  only  two  guineas  about  me,  and,  in  the 
second  place,  they  are  very  much  at  your  service."  Marlborough 
even  grudged  a  pension  to  a  servant  who  had  saved  his  life. 

Yet  let  no  one  imagine  that  Marlborough  was  altogether  a 
bad  man.  His  great  vices  tainted  his  public  and  his  private 
life ;  but  he  had  qualities  which  went  far  to  redeem  these, 
and  which  enabled  him  to  render  almost  priceless  services  to 
his  country  and  to  Europe.  He  was  possessed  of  consum- 
mate military  genius,  and  courage  dauntless  yet  not  rash.  He 
was  never  defeated  in  any  battle.  He  was  always  ready  to 
expose  himself  to  danger  provided  that  it  was  necessary.  He 
had,  also,  a  virtue  more  useful  than  courage  to  soldier  or  to 
statesman  —  calm  patience  ;  he  showed  no  excitement  in  the 
heat  of  battle ;  he  was  calm  and  serene  in  danger  as  in  a 
drawing-room.  Closely  allied  with  this  calmness  was  a  suavity 
of  mind  and  of  manners,  which  fascinated  the  most  critical 
judge.  Marlborough  was  a  singularly  handsome  man,  gifted 
with  a  beautiful  face  and  a  most  perfect  figure.  It  has  been 
said  that  his  calmness  proceeded,  to  a  great  extent,  from  a 
want  of  heart ;  but  his  affection  for  his  wife  was  so  remark- 
able that  he  has  often  been  taunted  with  being  too  much 
under  her  influence.  If  she  wrote  angrily  to  him,  no  success 
in  war  could  make  him  happy  until  she  had  relented.  More- 
over, as  a  general,  Marlborough  was  remarkable  for  his  hu- 
manity ;  before  the  battle  he  would  point  out  to  the  surgeons 
their  stations,  and  would  take  measures  to  ensure  the  proper 
treatment  of  the  wounded.  No  general  was  so  courteous  and 
considerate  to  his  prisoners. 

Many  a  character  has  been  written  of  Marlborough,  varying 
from  the  strongest  praise  to  the  severest  blame.  It  would 
seem  the  true  course  not  to  temper  the  praise  with  the  blame, 
and  produce  a  verdict  that  should  be  neither  hot  nor  cold, 


THE  ENGLAND  OF  QUEEN  ANNE     335 

but  to  adopt  and  combine  the  strong  features  from  each 
account,  and  to  leave  it  to  the  moral  philosopher  to  decide 
how  it  came  to  pass,  as  it  assuredly  did,  that  one  man  could 
combine  the  blackest  treachery  and  the  greediest  avarice  with 
the  courage,  the  calmness,  and  the  sweetness  of  Marlborough. 


N timber  60 
THE   ENGLAND   OF   QUEEN  ANNE 

E.  E.  Morris.    TJie  Age  of  Anne,  chap,  xxi,  passim. 

.  .  .  During  the  period  from  Queen  Anne's  time  to  our  own 
the  growth  of  manufactures  has  been  continually  drawing  the 
people  from  the  country  into  towns.  If  a  line  be  drawn  from 
the  mouth  of  the  Severn  to  the  junction  of  Ouse  and  Trent, 
where  the  river  H umber  commences,  one  might  say  that, 
roughly  speaking,  it  would  now  divide  the  manufacturing 
from  the  agricultural  parts  of  the  country,  that  with  the  ex- 
ception of  London  the  great  towns  lie  to  the  north  and  west 
of  the  line,  and  that  the  preponderance  of  political  power 
rests  with  them.  With  equal  confidence  one  might  assert 
that  in  Queen  Anne's  time  this  line  separated  the  important 
from  the  unimportant  parts  of  England,  all  that  lay  to  the 
north  and  west  being  comparatively  unimportant. 

.  .  .  The  following  may  be  regarded  as  a  list  of  the  chief 
English  towns,  after  London,  in  the  order  of  their  impor- 
tance, during  Queen  Anne's  reign  :  —  Bristol,  the  chief  sea- 
port ;  Norwich,  the  largest  manufacturing  city  ;  York,  the 
capital  of  the  northern  counties ;  Exeter,  the  capital  of 
the  western  district ;  Shrewsbury,  of  the  counties  along  the 
Welsh  border,  and  well  situated  for  intercourse  with  Wales; 
Worcester,  in  which  the  porcelain  manufacture  was  beginning 


336  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

to  rise.  To  these  would  have  to  be  added  Derby,  Notting- 
ham, Canterbury. 

The  population  of  London  was  then  about  700,000,  that 
is,  one-tenth  of  that  of  England  and  Wales.  Modern  London, ^ 
with  all  its  suburbs,  in  the  widest  circuit  that  is  called  London, 
that  is  to  say,  the  postal  districts,  covers  a  much  larger  area, 
and  contains  about  4,000,000  inhabitants.  This  makes  it 
considerably  more  than  one-tenth  of  the  United  Kingdom, 
and  one-sixth  of  England  and  Wales,  so  that  if  the  growth 
has  been  remarkable  elsewhere,  it  has  been  portentous  in 
London.  The  earlier  growth  had  been  noticed,  and  had 
caused  concern  to  the  Government.  In  the  reign  of  Elizabeth, 
and  under  the  Stuart  kings,  building  had  been  prohibited. 
But  it  was  found  impossible  to  stop  the  growth  of  London  ; 
it  would  have  been  as  practicable  to  stop  a  tree  from  putting 
out  its  branches  and  its  leaves.  A  great  calamity  befell  London 
in  the  reign  of  Charles  II.  It  was  burnt  down  ;  but  far  from 
checking  the  growth,  this  only  made  room  for  a  fresh  start. 
Here  was  an  opportunity  to  build  the  city  anew  on  a  sys- 
tematic plan,  and  the  Government  of  the  day  commissioned 
the  greatest  living  architect,  Sir  Christopher  W'ren,  to  draw 
up  such  a  plan  for  the  city.  This  can  still  be  seen,  with  his 
own  Cathedral  of  St.  Paul's  standing  in  a  free  space  in  the 
centre,  broad  wide  streets  leading  from  it,  spacious  squares 
at  due  intervals,  wide  and  convenient  quays  along  the  banks 
of  the  Thames  ;  but,  building  in  accordance  with  the  plans 
not  being  strictly  enforced,  the  opportunity  was  lost. 

London  was  built  hastily  after  the  fire,  and  many  conven- 
iences which  are  now  thought  necessary,  and  which  might 
have  been  supplied  had  a  little  more  time  been  taken,  were 
neglected.  Not  only  were  the  streets  narrow  and  irregular, 
but  there  was  no  arrangement  for  sewers,  and  there  were  no 

1  1876. 


THE  ENGLAND  OF  QUEEN  ANNE     337 

gutters  to  the  streets.  The  pohce  service  also  was  very  bad  ; 
"  the  watch  "  was  wholly  insufficient  in  numbers,  and  was 
composed  chiefly  of  old  men.  The  streets  were  badly  lighted 
of  a  night,  and  it  was  quiic  easy  for  anyone  bent  on  mischief 
to  overpower  the  watch.  Of  course  thieves  and  robbers  availed 
themselves  of  the  power ;  but  others  also,  who  should  have 
known  better,  took  occasion  not  to  rol)  but  to  riot.  Young 
men  of  birth  and  fashion  used  to  form  themselves  into  clubs, 
banded  together  for  the  sole  purpose  of  creating  disturbances. 
The  most  fashionable  of  these,  the  Mohawks,  were  a  terror 
to  all  peace-loving  citizens,  their  name  being  taken  from  the 
wild  tribe  of  North  American  Indians.  An  ancient  writer 
mentions  it  as  a  sign  of  progress  in  civilisation  when  men 
cease  to  wear  swords.  This  stiige  had  not  been  reached  in 
Queen  Anne's  reign,  when  the  young  bucks  and  dandies  of 
society  were  always  ready  to  draw  their  rapiers,  and  the  honest 
citizens  had  to  arm  themselves  with  bludgeons.   .   .   . 

The  only  art  that  really  flourished  in  Oueen  Anne's  time 
was  Architecture,  and  that  because  England  happened  to 
possess  an  architect  of  consummate  genius.  Sir  Christopher 
Wren  was  a  man  of  great  attainments,  being  especially  learned 
in  astronomy  and  in  mechanics,  and  one  of  the  first  members 
of  the  Royal  Society  founded  in  the  reign  of  Charles  II.  He 
was  as  modest  as  he  was  learned,  and  perhaps  would  have 
been  treated  with  more  respect  in  that  age  if  he  had  more 
firmly  asserted  his  own  rights.  He  was  not  especially  educated 
for  the  profession  of  an  architect,  but  when  he  was  appointed 
king's  surveyor  he  at  once  showed  himself  a  master  of  the 
art.  With  all  the  architects  of  his  day,  he  evidently  preferred 
the  classical  st}lc.  Before  the  Fire,  he  was  asked  to  restore 
old  St.  Paul's,  which  was  in  the  Gothic  style,  and  he  did  add 
some  towers  to  Westminster  Abbey,  which  are  amongst  his 
least  successful  productions.    Hut  whilst  the  question  of  the 


338  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

restoration  of  St.  Paul's  was  being  debated,  and  the  battle  of 
the  styles  being  fought,  the  Great  Fire  put  an  end  to  the  con- 
troversy. St.  Paul's  is  Wren's  greatest  work.  ...  It  was  a 
dean  of  St.  Paul's  that  wrote  of  the  Cathedral  :  "'  What  eye, 
trained  to  all  that  is  perfect  in  architecture,  does  not  recog- 
nise the  inimitable  beauty  of  its  lines,  the  majestic  yet  airy 
swelling  of  its  dome,  its  rich,  harmonious  ornamentation  ?  " 
.  .  .  The  first  stone  was  laid  in  Wren's  presence,  June  21, 
1675,  the  nine  years  since  the  fire  having  been  spent  in 
making  designs,  and  the  highest  stone  of  the  lantern  in  the 
cupola  was  also  set  by  his  son  in  his  presence  in  17 10.  It  is 
rare  in  the  history  of  great  buildings,  especially  of  cathedrals, 
that  they  should  be  finished  in  the  lifetime  of  the  original 
architect.  Indeed,  it  was  a  marvel  both  on  account  of  its 
cheapness,  and  because  of  the  short  time  in  which  it  was 
built.   .   .  . 

The  immense  improvement  in  one  city  should  be  men- 
tioned, because  it  began  within  this  period.  Bath  was  known 
as  a  watering-place  as  long  ago  as  the  Roman  occupation  of 
Britain.  It  seems  always  to  have  preserved  its  reputation, 
but  it  was  so  uncomfortable  that  no  one  cared  to  stay  there, 
unless  for  the  purposes  of  health.  In  the  first  year  of  Queen 
Anne's  reign  a  man  of  fashion  —  one  Richard  Nash,  nick- 
named Beau  Nash  —  paid  it  a  visit,  as  some  say,  in  order  to 
replenish  a  purse  emptied  by  gambling,  as  well  as  to  mend 
health  broken  by  dissipation.  He  at  once  set  to  work  to  in- 
crease the  cheerfulness  of  the  place,  and  to  provide  amuse- 
ment for  those  who  resorted  to  it.  His  genius  for  organization 
was  quickly  recognised,  and  he  was  appointed  Master  of  the 
Ceremonies  in  1704.  From  that  time,  for  a  period  of  nearly 
fifty  years,  he  may  be  described  as  king  of  Bath,  whilst 
squares  and  terraces,  pump-rooms  and  public  buildings,  rose 
almost  like  magic ;  till  under  his  auspices  Bath  became  the 


THE  ENGLAND  OF  QUEEN  ANNE     339 

well-ordered  city  that  it  now  is,  deserving,  with  its  magnificent 
situation,  the  title  of  the  queen  of  watering-places.   .   .  . 

...  In  Queen  Anne's  reign  there  were  1,330,000  paupers, 
or  nearly  one  in  five  of  the  whole  population.  Men  often 
complain,  now-a-days,  of  the  burden  of  pauperism  ;  but  the 
proportion  of  paupers  has  very  much  diminished.  In  the 
year  1873  there  were,  in  round  numbers,  890,000.  It  is 
thought  that  this  number  is  too  large,  and  with  discreet 
measures  can,  and  will  be  reduced.  Yet,  this  is  only  one  in 
twenty-seven  of  the  population.  Side  by  side  with  this  calcu- 
lation one  must,  however,  place  the  cost.  The  paupers  of 
Queen  Anne's  reign  cost  900,000/.  in  the  year,  or  about 
14s.  apiece,  whilst  the  poor  rate  in  1873  amounted  to 
13,000,000/.,  or  14/.  apiece.  Now,  the  decrease  in  the  value 
of  money  since  that  time  is  not  nearly  in  the  ratio  of  one 
to  twenty.   .  .  . 

There  is  no  doubt  that  the  value  of  money  has  consider- 
ably decreased  since  the  reign  of  Anne,  but  it  is  not  easy 
to  find  the  exact  figure  by  which  our  money  should  be  mul- 
tiplied. It  is  said  that  the  price  of  a  sheep  was  ys.,  and  of 
an  ox  2  /.  This  would  make  meat  rather  less  than  a  penny 
a  pound.  The  same  observer  says  that  2/. 55-.  would  keep  a 
labouring  man  in  food  for  a  year.  .  .  ,  Wages  averaged  about 
10^.  a  day.  The  pay  of  a  soldier  was  8  d.,  whereas  the  F'rench 
soldier  only  had  2)d.  A  private  in  the  present  day  receives 
I  S.2  d.,  besides  barrack-room,  pension,  and  facilities  for  buying 
food  cheaper.  The  labourer  probably  had  better  wages,  but  he 
had  no  facilities  for  saving  beyond  an  old  stocking.  There 
were  no  investments  open  to  him,  and  no  savings  banks.   .   .  . 

The  staple  produce  of  England  was  corn.  The  population 
being  so  much  smaller,  and,  at  the  same  time,  a  larger  part 
of  it  being  employed  in  agriculture,  the  country  was  easily 
able  to  supply  her  own  needs  of  wheat. 


340  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

The  second  produce  was  wool.  England  had  long  been  a 
wool-growing  country  ;  her  meadows  were  famous  for  the 
breed  of  sheep  ;  her  chancellor  sat  upon  the  woolsack.  But 
it  had  been  the  custom  to  send  all  the  wool  over  to  the 
Continent  to  be  manufactured.  Many  English  statesmen 
had  regretted  this,  but  the  wool  still  went  over.  Then  came 
small  beginnings  of  the  cloth  manufacture  in  England, 
Edward  III.  had  imported  families  of  cloth-workers  from 
the  Netherlands  ;  and  it  is  said  that,  in  his  reign,  the  name 
"worsted"  was  given  to  the  yarn  made  from  spun  wool,  after 
a  small  town  of  that  name  in  Norfolk.  In  order  to  foster  the 
manufacture  in  England,  various  statutes  were  made  to  encour- 
age the  natives  to  exclude  the  foreign  cloth  :  in  1 696  the  latter 
was  absolutely  prohibited,  and  in  the  reign  of  Charles  II.  it 
had  been  decreed  that  everyone  was  to  be  buried  in  woollen 
cloth.  In  old  church  registers  one  may  find  the  entry, 
"  buried  in  wool."  Further,  Irish  wool  was  prohibited,  and 
not  only  Irish  wool  but  Irish  linen.  Of  course  Englishmen 
could  not  complain  when  the  same  protective  policy  was  re- 
peated in  another  country,  and  British  as  well  as  Irish 
woollen  goods  absolutely  prohibited  in  France.  Of  the  Eng- 
lish manufacture  Leeds  was  already  the  centre,  but  it  was  a 
town  of  very  different  size  from  the  Leeds  of  to-day.  Its 
population  is  now  thirty-seven  times  as  large.  But  in  our 
days  the  woollen  manufacture  is  only  the  third  of  English 
manufactures  —  that  of  cotton  being  about  two  and  a  half 
times  as  large,  and  iron  standing  second.   .   .   . 

Other  manufactures  were  still  very  young.  The  coal  fields 
were  not  largely  worked,  as  coal  was  only  required  for  domestic 
purposes.  That  from  Newcastle-upon-Tyne  was  considered  the 
best.  Sheffield,  famous  for  its  "whittles  "  even  in  Chaucer's 
time,  kept  up  its  reputation  for  cutlery,  though  the  manufacture 
was  on  a  small  scale.    The  French  refugees  who  settled  in 


THE  ENGLAND  OK  QUEEN  ANNE     341 

England,  and  who  vexed  the  Tories  because  their  Protes- 
tantism was  not  that  of  the  ICnghsh  Church,  introduced 
several  valuable  branches  of  manufacture  ;  silk  weaving  was 
the  chief,  but  to  these  also  must  be  added,  glass,  paper,  and 
hats.  All  the  gold  and  silver  came  into  Europe  from  America, 
through  Spain,  entering  by  Cadiz,  "'  the  golden  gate  of  the 
Indies." 

There  can  be  no  doubt,  as  regards  the  standard  of  com- 
fort, that  the  English  people  were  far  beyond  other  European 
nations.  Ambassadors  wrote  to  express  astonishment  that 
the  food  was  so  good,  that  the  consumption  of  beer,  spirits, 
and  foreign  wine  was  so  large,  and  that  articles  of  luxury 
imported  from  distant  lands  were  in  such  general  use.  An 
English  writer  of  the  time  estimates,  indeed,  that  only  half 
the  labouring  class  ate  animal  food  more  than  twice  a  week, 
but  in  proportion  to  wages  meat  was  much  cheaper  then  than 
it  is  now.  The  consumption  of  beer  seems  enormous.  It  was 
calculated  that  in  the  year  after  the  Revolution  a  quart  a  day 
was  brewed  for  every  man,  woman,  and  child  in  England  ; 
whereas  the  same  calculation  makes  the  amount  in  the 
present  day  sixty  quarts  per  annum,  or  just  one-sixth.  It 
w^ould  not  be  a  fair  conclusion  that  the  English  are  now  a 
more  sober  people  because  less  beer  is  drunk,  for  a  great  deal 
that  was  brewed  was  very  small  beer.  The  majority  of  the 
English  people  have  three  meals  a  day  —  breakfast,  dinner, 
and  tea,  and  it  is  only  at  one  of  these  that  the  larger  por- 
tion  ever  touch  beer.  The  choice  then  lay  between  wine  or 
spirits,  cider,  beer,  milk,  or  water.  It  is  to  two  beverages 
that  have  since  passed  into  common  use,  tea  and  coffee,  that 
the  diminution  in  the  amount  of  beer  is  due.  Tea,  or  as  it 
was  then  always  pronounced,  tay, 

(And  gentle  Anna,  whom  three  realms  obey, 

Does  sometimes  counsel  take  and  sometimes  tea.  —  Pope.) 


342 


READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 


was  first  brought  into  England  by  the  Dutch  nearly  a  century 
earlier,  but  during  the  whole  seventeenth  century  it  was  re- 
garded as  a  rare  luxury.  Mr.  Pepys  drank  his  first  cup  of  tea 
on  September  25,  1661,  describing  it  as  —  "A  China  drink, 
of  which  I  had  never  drunk  before."   .  .   . 

Coffee  was  making  its  way  at  the  same  time.  Coffee  was 
imported  from  the  Levant,  which  it  easily  reached  from 
Arabia,  its  home.  It  was  first  brought  into  England  by  a 
Cretan  gentleman,  who  made  it  his  common  beverage  at 
Balliol  College,  Oxford,  in  the  year  when  the  Long  Parliament 
first  met.  Coffee  became  a  social  power  earlier  than  tea. 
The  Greek  servant  of  an  English  Turkey  merchant  from 
Smyrna  is  said  to  have  started  the  first  coffee-house  in  Lon- 
don in  the  time  of  the  Commonwealth.  About  the  end  of 
the  seventeenth  centur)^  coffee-houses  were  very  common, 
and  important  as  a  means  of  social  and  political  intercourse 
amongst  men.  They  filled  the  place  that  is  now  filled  by 
the  London  clubs.  Some  were  chiefly  political  places  of  re- 
sort for  only  one  party ;  others,  especially  the  famous  Wills', 
in  Covent  Garden,  were  literary.  Those  who  wished  to  see, 
to  hear,  or  perhaps  to  bow  to  a  prominent  literary  man, 
such  as  Dryden  or  Addison,  would  find  him  at  the  coffee- 
house. These  houses  had  great  influence  in  the  formation 
of  opinions.  Men  now-a-days  often  take  their  opinion  from 
their  club  or  their  newspaper ;  then  they  took  it  from  the 
coffee-house.  .  .  . 

As  it  was  in  the  reign  of  Anne  that  parties  began  to 
assume  the  shape  which  they  have  kept  almost  to  our  own 
times,  it  seems  advisable  to  consider  the  classes  of  society 
from  which  the  two  parties  respectively  drew  their  strength. 
One  must  premise  that  the  great  bulk  of  the  English  people 
belongs  to  no  party,  but,  being  as  it  were  between  the  two, 
sways  from  one  to  the  other,  according  as  their  sense  of 


THE  ENGLAND  OF  QUEEN  ANNE  343 

justice  or  the  prejudices  of  passion  may  incline  them.  When 
the  Long  ParHament  met,  the  bulk  of  the  people  were  op- 
posed to  the  Court.  Twenty  years  later  at  the  Restoration 
they  were  as  certainly  for  the  Stuarts,  and  as  surely  at  the 
Revolution  against  them.  We  may  note  also  the  sudden 
change  in  the  queen's  reign,  when  the  same  mob  that  had 
cheered  Marlborough  shouted  for  Dr.  Sacheverell.  The  same 
reflection  helps  to  explain  sudden  changes  of  our  own  as  well 
as  of  other  days. 

The  strength  of  the  Tories  lay  in  the  country  rather  than 
in  the  towns,  in  the  small  boroughs  rather  than  in  the  large 
towns,  in  the  agricultural  rather  than  in  the  moneyed  interest. 
The  tenant  farmers  were  mostly  Tories.  Almost  all  the 
clergy,  and  especially  the  country  clerg}^,  were  to  be  found  in 
the  Tory  ranks.  As  an  extreme  wing  of  the  Tory  clergy 
must  be  ranked  the  non-jurors,  those  who  resigned  place 
rather  than  take  the  oath  of  allegiance  to  William  and  Mary, 
a  sect  numerically  unimportant,  but  comprising  several  men 
who  were  distinguished  for  learning  and  for  piety. 

The  Whigs  were  strong  in  the  large  towns,  London  being 
especially  staunch  to  them.  The  merchants  and  bankers,  as 
well  as  most  of  the  small  free-holders  in  the  countrv,  were 
Whigs.  A  good  many  of  the  lords  and  of  the  bishops  be- 
longed to  that  party  ;  but  this  was  because  the  former  had 
been  created,  and  the  latter  appointed,  by  King  William.  To 
these  must  be  added  the  whole  body  of  the  Dissenters,  who 
were  estimated  to  amount  to  4  per  cent,  of  the  population. 

As  the  Universities  were  the  recruiting  ground  of  the 
clerg}%  we  should  expect  that  the  Tory  party  would  be  strong 
in  thcni.  It  was,  however,  much  stronger  at  Oxford  than  at 
Cambridge.  Shortly  after  the  accession  of  George  L,  at  the 
time  of  the  rising  for  the  old  Pretender,  it  was  found  neces- 
sary to  send  soldiers  down  to  Oxford  to  keep  order.    At  the 


344  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

same  time  the  king  happened  to  be  sending  a  present  of 
books  to  her  sister  University. 

An  Oxford  epigram  was  written  — 

The  king  observing,  with  judicious  eyes, 

The  state  of  both  his  universities, 

To  Oxford  sent  a  troop  of  horse ;  and  why  ? 

That  learned  body  wanted  loyalty  ; 

To  Cambridge  books  he  sent,  as  well  discerning 

How  much  that  loyal  body  wanted  learning. 

A  Cambridge  man  repHed  — 

The  king  to  Oxford  sent  a  troop  of  horse, 
For  Tories  own  no  argument  but  force ; 
With  equal  skill  to  Cambridge  books  he  sent, 
For  Whigs  admit  no  force  but  argument. 

There  was  a  great  difference  between  the  clergy  of  the 
towns  and  of  the  country ;  the  London  clergy,  especially,  were 
often  men  of  mark.  But  the  great  majority  of  the  clergy 
were  both  in  learning  and  in  social  position  far  below  the 
standard  of  the  present  day.  It  was  estimated  that  not  one 
benefice  in  forty  was  worth  lOO  /.  a  year,  so  that  the  "  pass- 
ing rich  on  40/.  a  year,"  of  Goldsmith's  poem  would  not 
then  have  excited  the  smile  that  it  now  does  ;  and  as  the 
Church  of  England  wisely  allows  its  clergy  to  marry,  there 
was  very  general  misery  and  distress  amongst  their  families. 
...  In  the  times  before  the  Reformation  it  had  been  the 
practice  to  give  to  the  Pope  first-fruits  and  tithes,  that  is,  the 
whole  of  the  first  year's  revenue,  and  a  tithe  of  all  later  years. 
When  Henry  VIII.  pillaged  the  Church  this  revenue  was 
seized  by  the  Crown,  and  Burnet's  suggestion  was  to  apply 
this  fund  to  the  improvement  of  the  livings  of  the  poorer 
clergy.    It  is  still  called  Queen  Anne's  bounty. 


CAUSES  OF  THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION     345 

Number  61 

THE  CAUSES   OF  THE  AMERICAN 
REVOLUTION 

James  K.  Hosmer.  Samuel  Adams,  pp.  25-32.  American  Statesmen  Series. 

The  prevailing  tone  of  American  writers,  who,  as  histo- 
rians or  biographers,  have  treated  the  Revolutionary  strug- 
gle, has  been  that  the  case  against  the  British  government 
was  a  perfectly  plain  one,  that  its  conduct  was  aggression 
in  no  way  to  be  justified  or  palliated,  and  as  blundering 
as  it  was  wicked.  An  illustrious  Englishman,  E.  A.  Free- 
man, however,  has  just  written  :  "  In  the  War  of  Independ- 
ence there  is  really  nothing  of  which  either  side  need  be 
ashamed.  Each  side  acted  as  it  was  natural  for  each  side 
to  act.  We  can  now  see  that  both  King  George  and  the 
British  nation  were  quite  wrong ;  but  for  them  to  have 
acted  otherwise  than  they  did  would  have  needed  a  super- 
human measure  of  wisdom,  which  few  kings  and  few  nations 
ever  had." 

Our  Fourth  of  July  orators  may  well  assume  a  tone  some- 
what less  confident,  when  thoughtful  men  in  England,  not  at 
all  ill-disposed  toward  America,  and  not  at  all  blind  to  the 
blunders  and  crimes  which  strew  the  course  of  English  his- 
tory, pass  even  now^,  after  a  hundred  years,  such  a  judgment 
as  this  which  has  been  quoted.  A  candid  American  student, 
admire  as  he  may  the  wisdom  and  virtue  of  our  Revolution- 
ary fathers,  is  compelled  to  admit,  in  this  calmer  time,  that 
it  was  by  no  means  plain  sailing  for  King  George  and  his 
ministers,  and  that  they  deserve  something  better  from  us 
than  the  unsparing  obloquy  which  for  the  most  part  they 
have  received. 


346  READINGS  IN  ENCxLISH   HISTORY 

The  love  of  the  colonists  toward  England  had  become 
estranged  in  other  ways  than  by  "  taxation  without  represen- 
tation." In  Massachusetts,  the  destruction  of  the  theocracy 
through  the  new  charter  was  a  severe  shock  to  puritan  feel- 
ing. The  enforced  toleration  of  all  sects  but  papists  was  a 
constant  source  of  wrath  ;  and  when,  as  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury advanced,  the  possibility  of  the  introduction  of  bishops 
and  a  church  establishment  appeared,  a  matter  which  was 
most  persistently  and  unwisely  urged,  there  was  deep-seated 
resentment. 

But  another  stone  of  offense,  which,  unlike  the  fear  of 
prelacy,  affected  all  America  as  well  as  New  England,  and 
was  therefore  very  important,  existed  in  the  trade  regulations. 
By  the  revolution  of  1688,  the  royal  power  in  England 
was  restrained,  but  that  of  Parliament  and  the  mercantile 
and  manufacturing  classes  greatly  increased.  The  "  Board  of 
Trade  "  was  then  constituted,  to  whom  were  committed  the 
interests  of  commerce  and  a  general  oversight  of  the  colonies. 
Adam  Smith  ^  was  still  in  the  far  future,  and  the  policy  con- 
stantly pursued  was  neither  humane  nor  wise.  We  may  judge 
of  the  temper  of  the  Board  from  the  fact  that  even  John 
Locke,  its  wisest  and  one  of  its  most  influential  members, 
solemnly  advised  William  to  appoint  a  captain-general  over 
the  colonies  with  dictatorial  power,  and  the  whole  Board 
recommended,  in  1701,  a  resumption  of  the  colonial  charters 
and  the  introduction  of  such  "  an  administration  of  govern- 
ment as  shall  make  them  duly  subservient  to  England."  The 
welfare  of  the  colonies  was  systematically  sacrificed  to  the 
aggrandizement  of  the  gains  of  English  manufacturers  and 
merchants.    Sometimes    the    provisions    turned    out   to    the 

1  Adam  Smith  was  a  famous  political  economist  of  the  eighteenth  century,  who 
taught  that  freedom  of  production  and  exchange  of  goods  worked  greater  benefit  to 
all  concerned  than  a  policy  of  restriction. 


CAUSES  OF  THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION 


347 


advantage  of  the   colonists,    but  more  frequently  there  was 
oppression  without  any  compensating  good. 

Restrictions,  designed  for  securing  to  the  mother-country 
a  monopoly  of  the  colonial  trade,  crushed  out  every  industry 
that  could  compete  with  those  of  England.  For  such  products 
as  they  were  permitted  to  raise,  the  colonies  had  no  lawful 
market  but  England,  nor  could  they  buy  anywhere,  except 
in  England,  the  most  important  articles  which  they  needed. 
With  the  French  West  India  islands  a  most  profitable  inter- 
course had  sprung  up,  the  colonists  shipping  thither  lumber 
and  provisions,  and  receiving  in  return  sugar  and  molasses, 
the  consumption  of  which  latter  article,  in  the  wide-spread 
manufacture  of  rum,  was  ver)'  large.  In  1733  was  passed  the 
famous  "  Sugar  Act,"  the  design  of  which  was  to  help  the 
British  West  Indies  at  the  expense  of  the  northern  colonies, 
and  by  which  all  the  trade  with  the  French  islands  became 
unlawful,  so  that  no  legitimate  source  of  supply  remained 
open  but  the  far  less  convenient  English  islands.  The 
restrictions,  indeed,  were  not  and  could  not  be  enforced. 
Every  sailor  was  a  smuggler ;  every  colonist  knew  more  or 
less  of  illicit  traffic  or  industry.  The  demoralization  came  to 
pass  which  always  results  when  a  community,  even  with  good 
reason,  is  full  of  law-breakers,  and  the  disposition  became 
constantly  more  and  more  unfriendly  toward  the  mother 
country.  Said  Arthur  Young  :  "  Nothing  can  be  more  idle 
than  to  say  that  this  set  of  men,  or  the  other  administration, 
or  that  great  minister,  occasioned  the  American  war.  It  was 
not  the  Stamp  Act,  nor  the  repeal  of  the  Stamp  Act ;  it 
was  neither  Lord  Rockingham  nor  Lord  North,  —  but  it  was 
that  baleful  spirit  of  commerce  that  wished  to  govern  great 
nations  on  the  maxims  of  the  counter." 

The  Board  of  Trade,  however,  the  main  source  of  the 
long  series  of  acts  by  which  the  English  dependencies  were 


348  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

systematically  repressed,  should  receive  execration  not  too 
severe.  They  simply  were  not  in  advance  of  their  age.  When, 
after  1688,  the  commercial  spirit  gained  an  ascendency  quite 
new  in  England,  the  colonists,  far  off,  litde  known,  and  de- 
spised, were  pitched  upon  as  fair  game,  if  they  could  be  made 
to  yield  advantage.  In  so  using  them,  the  men  in  power  were 
only  showing  what  has  so  often  passed  as  patriotism,  that 
mere  expansion  of  selfishness,  inconsistent  with  any  broad 
Christian  sentiment,  which  seeks  wealth  and  might  for  the 
state  at  the  expense  of  the  world  outside.  It  was  inhumanity 
from  which  the  world  is  rising,  it  may  be  hoped,  —  for  which 
it  would  be  wrong  to  blame  those  men  of  the  past  too  harshly. 
The  injustice,  however,  as  always,  brought  its  penalty ;  and 
in  this  case  the  penalty  was  the  utter  estrangement  of  the 
hearts  of  a  million  of  Englishmen  from  the  land  they  had 
once  loved,  and  the  ultimate  loss  of  a  continent. 

Before  the  Massachusetts  settlement,  it  had  been  stipulated 
in  the  charter  that  all  the  colonists  were  to  have  the  rights  and 
privileges  of  Englishmen,  and  this  provision  they  often  cited. 
Magna  Charta  was  but  a  confirmation  of  what  had  stood  in 
and  before  the  time  of  Edward  the  Confessor,  —  the  primi- 
tive freedom,  indeed,  which  had  prevailed  in  the  German 
woods.  This  had  been  again  and  again  re-confirmed.  Docu- 
ments of  Edward  I.  and  Edward  III.,  the  Petition  of  Right  of 
1628,  the  Bill  of  Rights  of  1689,  had  given  such  re-confir- 
mations ;  and  the  descendants  of  the  twenty  thousand  Puritans, 
who,  coming  over  between  1620  and  1640,  had  been  the 
seed  from  which  sprung  the  race  of  New  Englanders,  knew 
these  things  in  a  general  way.  They  were  to  the  full  as  in- 
telligent in  perceiving  what  were  the  rights  of  Englishmen, 
and  as  tenacious  in  upholding  them,  as  any  class  that  had 
remained  in  the  old  home.  Left  to  themselves  for  sixty 
years,  there  was  little  need  of  an  assertion  of  rights ;  but 


CAUSES  OF  THE  AMERICAN   REVOLUTIOX      349 

when  at  last  interference  began  from  across  the  water,  it 
was  met  at  the  outset  by  protest.  ParHamcnt  is  a  thousand 
leagues  oi  stormy  sea  away  from  us,  said  they.  That  body 
cannot  judge  us  well  ;  most  of  all,  our  representatives  have 
no  place  in  it.  We  owe  allegiance  to  the  king  indeed,  but  in- 
stead of  Parliament,  our  General  Court  shall  tax  and  make- 
laws  for  us.  Such  claims,  often  asserted,  though  overruled, 
were  not  laid  aside,  and  at  length  in  1766  we  find  Franklin 
asserting  them  as  the  opinion  of  America  at  the  bar  of  the 
House  of  Commons. 

It  cannot,  however,  be  said  that  New  England  was  con- 
sistent here.  In  1757,  for  instance,  the  authority  of  Parlia- 
ment was  distinctly  admitted  by  the  General  Court  of 
Massachusetts  ;  so  too  in  1 76 1  ;  and  even  so  late  as  1 768, 
it  is  admitted  "that  his  Majesty's  high  court  of  Parliament 
is  the  supreme  legislative  power  over  the  whole  empire." 

The  sum  and  substance  is  that  as  to  the  constitutional 
rights  of  the  colonists,  the  limits  were,  in  particulars,  quite 
undetermined,  both  in  the  minds  of  English  statesmen,  and 
also  among  the  colonists  themselves.  What  "  the  privileges 
and  rights  of  Englishmen  "  were  was  not  always  clearly  out- 
lined, and  the  student  finds  sometimes  more,  sometimes  less, 
insisted  on,  according  as  the  temper  toward  the  old  world  is 
embittered,  or  good-natured.  As  events  progress,  through 
fear  of  prelatical  contrivings  and  through  bad  trade  regula- 
tions, as  has  been  seen,  the  tone  becomes  more  and  more 
exasperated.  On  the  one  side  the  spirit  becomes  constantly 
more  independent ;  on  the  other  side,  the  claims  take  on  a 
new  shade  of  arrogance.  When  the  first  decided  steps  toward 
the  Revolution  occur  in  1764,  in  the  agitations  connected 
with  the  Stamp  Act,  the  positions  in  general  of  the  parties 
in  the  dispute  may  be  set  down  as  follows  :  "  Parliament 
asserted  the  right  to  make  laws  to  bind  the  colonies  in  all 


350 


READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 


cases  whatsoever ;  the  colonies  claimed  that  there  should  be 
no  taxation  without  representation,  and  that,  since  they  had 
no  representatives  in  Parliament,  they  were  beyond  its 
jurisdiction." 

JVujnber  62 
WILLIAM   PITT  THE  ELDER 

William  Edward  Hartpole  Lecky.   Histoiy  of  Eitgland  in  the  Eight- 
eenth Ceittnry,  Vol.  II,  pp.  508-563, /«jj/w. 

We  may  here,  then,  conveniently  pause  to  examine  in  some 
detail  the  character  and  policy  of  this  most  remarkable  man, 
[William  Pitt]  who,  in  spite  of  many  and  glaring  defects,  was 
undoubtedly  one  of  the  noblest,  as  he  was  one  of  the  greatest, 
who  have  ever  appeared  in  English  politics.  There  have,  per- 
haps, been  English  statesmen  who  have  produced  on  the  whole 
greater  and  more  enduring  benefits  to  their  countr}^  than  the 
elder  Pitt,  and  there  have  certainly  been  some  whose  careers 
have  exhibited  fewer  errors  and  fewer  defects  ;  but  there  has 
been  no  other  statesman  whose  fame  has  been  so  dazzling 
and  so  universal,  or  concerning  whose  genius  and  character 
there  has  been  so  little  dispute.  As  an  orator,  if  the  best  test 
of  eloquence  be  the  influence  it  exercises  on  weighty  matters 
upon  a  highly  cultivated  assembly,  he  must  rank  wdth  the 
ver)'  greatest  who  have  ever  lived.  His  speeches  appear, 
indeed,  to  have  exhibited  no  pathos,  and  not  much  wit ;  he 
was  not  like  his  son,  skilful  in  elaborate  statements ;  nor  like 
Fox,  an  exhaustive  debater  ;  nor  like  Burke,  a  profound  phi- 
losopher ;  nor  like  Canning,  a  great  master  of  sparkling  fancy 
and  of  playful  sarcasm  ;  but  he  far  surpassed  them  all  in  the 
blasting  inry  of  his  invective,  in  the  force,  fire,  and  majesty 
of  a  declamation  which  thrilled  and  awed  the  most  fastidious 


WITJJ\^r  vvvT  ttik  f.t,1)kr  351 

audience,  in  the  burning  and  piercing  power  with  which  he 
could  imprint  his  views  upon  the  minds  of  his  hearers.  .  .  . 
He  possessed  every  personal  advantage  that  an  orator  could 
desire  —  a  singularly  graceful  and  imposing  form,  a  voice 
.of  wonderful  compass  and  melody,  which  he  modulated  with 
consummate  skill  ;  an  eye  of  such  piercing  brightness  and 
such  commanding  power  that  it  gave  an  air  of  inspiration  to 
his  speaking,  and  added  a  peculiar  terror  to  his  invective. 
The  weight  and  dignity  of  a  great  character  and  a  great  intel- 
lect appeared  in  all  he  said,  and  a  certain  sustained  loftiness 
of  diction  and  of  manner  kept  him  continually  on  a  higher 
level  than  his  audience,  and  imposed  respect  upon  the  most 
petulant  opposition.   .   .  . 

.  .  .  The  anecdotes  preserved  of  the  ascendency  he  acquired, 
and  of  the  terror  he  inspired  in  the  great  councils  of  the 
realm,  are  so  wonderful,  and  indeed  so  unparalleled,  that  they 
would  be  incredible  were  they  not  most  abundantly  attested. 
'  The  terrible,'  said  Charles  Butler,  '  was  his  peculiar  power  ; 
then  the  whole  House  sank  before  him.'  '  His  words,'  said 
Lord  Lyttelton,  '  have  sometimes  frozen  my  young  blood  into 
stagnation,  and  sometimes  made  it  pace  in  such  a  hurry 
through  my  veins  that  I  could  scarce  support  it.'  '  No  male- 
factor under  the  stripes  of  an  executioner,'  said  Glover,  '  was 
ever  more  forlorn  and  helpless  than  Fox  appeared  under 
the  lash  of  Pitt's  eloquence,  shrew^d  and  able  in  Parliament 
as  Fox  confessedly  is.'  Fox  himself,  in  one  of  his  letters, 
describes  a  debate  on  a  contested  election,  in  which  the 
member,  who  was  accused  of  bribery,  carried  with  him  all 
the  sympathies  of  the  House,  and  kept  it  in  a  continual  roar 
of  laughter  by  a  speech  full  of  wit,  humour,  and  buffoonery. 
'Mr.  Pitt  came  down  from  the  gallery  and  took  it  up  in  his 
highest  tone  of  dignity.  "  He  was  astonished  when  he  heard 
what  had  been  the  occasion  of  their  mirth.    Was  the  dignity 


352  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

of  the  House  of  Commons  on  such  sure  foundations  that  they 
might  venture  themselves  to  shake  it  ?  Had  it  not  on  the 
contrary  been  diminishing  for  years,  till  now  we  are  brought 
to  the  very  brink  of  a  precipice,  when,  if  ever,  a  stand  must 
be  made."  Then  followed  high  compliments  to  the  Speaker, 
eloquent  exhortations  to  Whigs  of  all  conditions  to  defend 
their  attacked  and  expiring  liberty,  "unless  you  will  degen- 
erate into  a  little  assembly,  serving  no  other  purpose  than  to 
register  the  arbitrary  edicts  of  one  too  powerful  a  subject."  .  .  . 
Displeased  as  well  as  pleased  allow  it  to  be  the  finest  speech 
that  was  ever  made  ;  and  it  was  observed  that  by  his  first  two 
periods  he  brought  the  House  to  a  silence  and  attention  that 
you  might  have  heard  a  pin  drop.'  On  two  occasions  a  mem- 
ber who  attempted  to  answer  him  was  so  disconcerted  by  his 
glance,  or  by  a  few  fierce  words  which  he  uttered,  that  he 
sat  down  confused  and  paralysed  with  fear.  Charles  Butler 
asked  a  member  who  was  present  on  one  of  these  occasions 
'if  the  House  did  not  laugh  at  the  ridiculous  figure  of  the 
poor  member .'' '  '  No  sir,'  he  replied,  '  we  were  all  too  much 
awed  to  laugh.'  No  speaker  ever  took  greater  liberties  with 
his  audience.  Thus,  when  George  Grenville  in  one  of  his 
speeches  was  urging  in  defence  of  a  tax  the  difficulty  of  dis- 
covering a  substitute  :  '  Tell  me  where  it  should  be  placed  ; 
I  say,  tell  me  where  ? '  he  was  interrupted  by  Pitt  humming 
aloud  the  refrain  of  a  popular  song,  '  Tell  me,  gentle  shep- 
herd, where .? '  '  If,  gentlemen,  .  .  .'  began  Grenville,  when 
Pitt  rose,  bowed,  and  walked  contemptuously  out  of  the 
House.  '  Sugar,  Mr.  Speaker,'  he  once  began,  when  a  laugh 
arose.  '  Sugar,'  he  repeated  three  times,  turning  fiercely 
round,  "  who  will  now  dare  to  laugh  at  sugar .? '  and  the 
members,  like  timid  school-boys,  sank  into  silence.   .   .  . 

If  we  pass  from  the  oratory  of  Pitt  to  his  character,  we 
must  speak  with  much  more  qualification.    His  faults  were, 


WILLIAM   PITT  THE  ELDER  35 


JDo 


indeed,  many  and  very  grave,  but  they  were  redeemed  by  some 
splendid  qualities  which  dazzled  his  contemporaries,  and 
have  perhaps  exercised  a  somewhat  disproportionate  influ- 
ence upon  the  judgments  of  posterity.  He  was  entirely  free 
from  all  taint  or  suspicion  of  corruption.  Entering  public  life 
at  a  time  when  the  standard  of  political  honour  was  extremely 
low,  having,  it  is  said,  at  first  a  private  fortune  of  not  more 
than  100/.  a  year,  and  being  at  the  same  time  almost  desti- 
tute of  parliamentary  connection,  conscious  of  the  possession 
of  great  administrative  powers,  and  intensely  desirous  of 
office,  he  exhibited  in  all  matters  connected  with  money  the 
most  transparent  and  fastidious  purity.   .   .   . 

.  .  .  Pitt  was  not  a  very  young  man  when  he  came  into 
Parliament ;  he  was  forty-six  at  the  time  of  the  death  of 
Pelham  ;  and  his  conduct  exhibited  far  graver  defects  than 
mere  violence,  impatience,  or  inconsistency.  .  .  . 

He  was  at  the  same  time  singularly  theatrical  and  affected. 
His  speeches  owed  much  of  their  charm  to  the  most  con- 
summate acting,  and  he  carried  his  histrionic  turn  into  every 
.sphere  in  which  he  moved.  As  Goldsmith  said  of  Garrick, 
he  never  seemed  natural  except  when  acting.  In  his  inter- 
course with  his  most  intimate  friends,  in  the  most  confiden- 
tial transaction  of  business,  he  was  always  strained  and  formal, 
assuming  postures,  studying  effects  and  expressions.  His 
dress,  his  sling,  his  crutch,  were  all  carefully  arranged  for  the 
most  private  interview.  His  under  secretaries  were  never 
suffered  to  sit  in  his  presence.  His  letters  —  whether  he 
was  addressing  a  minister  on  affairs  of  state,  or  exhorting  his 
young  nephew  to  guard  against  the  ungracefulness  of  laughter 
—  were  tumid,  formal,  and  affected.  He  told  Lord  Shelburne 
that,  even  independently  of  considerations  of  health,  he 
would  always,  for  reasons  of  policy,  live  a  few  miles  out  of 
town.    He  performed  many  noble  and  disinterested  acts,  but 


354  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

he  seldom  lost  sight  of  the  effect  they  might  produce.  He 
performed  them  with  an  elaborate  ostentation  ;  and  simplicity, 
modesty,  and  unobtrusive  excellence  were  wholly  alien  to  his 
character.  It  is  said  of  him  that  in  his  family  circle  he  de- 
lighted in  reading  out  the  tragedies  of  Shakespeare,  which 
he  did  with  great  pathos  and  power ;  but  whenever  he  came 
to  any  light  or  comic  parts,  he  immediately  stopped  and  gave 
the  book  to  some  member  of  his  family  to  read.  This  anec- 
dote is  characteristic  of  his  whole  life.  He  never  unbent. 
He  was  always  acting  a  part,  always  self-conscious,  always 
aiming  at  a  false  and  unreal  dignity.   .   .   . 

But  yet  with  all  his  faults  he  was  a  very  great  man  —  far 
surpassing  both  in  mental  and  moral  altitude  the  other  poli- 
ticians of  his  generation.  As  a  war  minister  his  greatness 
was  beyond  question,  and  almost  beyond  comparison.  At 
very  few  periods  of  English  history  was  the  aspect  of  affairs 
more  gloomy  than  at  the  beginning  of  the  second  ministry 
of  Pitt.  The  country  seemed  hopelessly  overmatched  ;  the 
public  services  had  fallen  into  anarchy  or  decrepitude,  and  a 
general  languor  and  timidity  had  overspread  all  departments. 
The  wild  panic  that  had  lately  passed  through  England  upon 
the  rumour  of  an  invasion  showed  how  little  confidence  she 
felt  in  her  security,  while  the  loss  of  Minorca  had  discredited 
her  in  the  eyes  of  the  world,  and  annihilated  both  her  com- 
merce with  the  Levant  and  her  supremacy  in  the  Mediter- 
ranean. In  America,  General  Loudon,  with  a  large  force, 
made  an  expedition  in  July  1757  against  Louisburg ;  but  it 
was  conducted  with  great  timidity  and  hesitation,  and  on 
the  arrival  of  a  French  fleet  was  somewhat  ignominiously 
abandoned,  while  the  French  carried  on  the  war  with  energy 
and  success  upon  the  borders  of  Lake  George.  In  spite  of 
English  cruisers  they  succeeded  in  the  beginning  of  1757  in 
pouring  reinforcements  into  Canada,  while  French  squadrons 


WILLIAM    I'ITT  THE   ELDER  355 

swept  the  sea  around  the  West  Indies  and  the  coasts  of 
Africa.  Nearer  home  an  expedition  against  Rochefort, 
which  was  one  of  the  first  enterprises  of  Pitt,  failed  through 
tlie  irresolution  of  Sir  John  Mordaunt.  On  the  Continent 
the  league  against  Frederick  and  against  Hanover  seemed 
overwhelming,  and  it  appeared  as  if  the  struggle  could  not 
be  greatly  prolonged.   .   .  . 

Pitt  had,  however,  just  confidence  in  himself.  '  I  am  sure,' 
he  said  on  one  occasion  to  the  Duke  of  Devonshire,  '  that  I 
can  save  the  country,  and  that  no  one  else  can.'  If  he  did 
not  possess  to  a  high  degree  the  skill  of  a  great  strategist  in 
detecting  the  vulnerable  parts  of  his  opponents  and  in  map- 
ping out  brilliant  campaigns,  he  had  at  least  an  eagle  eye  for 
discovering  talent  and  resolution  among  his  subordinates,  a 
rare  power  of  restoring  the  vigour  of  every  branch  of  admin- 
istration, and  above  all  a  capacity  unrivalled  among  states- 
men of  reviving  the  confidence  and  the  patriotism  of  the 
nation,  and  of  infusing  an  heroic  daring  into  all  who  served 
him.  'No  man,'  said  Colonel  Barre,  "ever  entered  his 
closet  who  did  not  come  out  of  it  a  braver  man.'  He  came 
into  power  at  the  end  of  June  1757,  and  disasters,  largely 
due  to  the  incapacity  of  his  predecessors,  and  especially  to 
the  long  period  of  administrative  anarchy  that  had  just  taken 
place,  threw  a  deep  shade  over  the  first  months  of  his 
power.  .  .  . 

In  America  events  were  taking  place  of  far  greater  im- 
portance to  England.  In  spite  of  the  immense  preponder- 
ance of  numbers  on  the  side  of  the  English,  the  balance  of 
success  in  the  first  years  of  the  war  had  been  clearly  with 
the  French.  .  .  .  But  Pitt,  on  attaining  to  power,  at  once 
made  it  one  of  his  main  objects  to  drive  them  from 
America.  He  urgently  appealed  to  the  colonists  to  raise 
20,000   men  for    the  cause.    The   Crown   was    to    provide 


356  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

arms,  ammunition,  tents,  and  provisions.    The  colonies  were 
to  raise,  clothe,  and  pay  the  levies,  but  for  this  expense  he 
promised  a  parliamentary  reimbursement,  and  this  promise 
induced    the    colonists    to   make    all    the    efforts  that  were 
required.    General  Loudon,  the  English  commander-in-chief, 
was  recalled,  and  replaced  by  General  Abercrombie.    Disre- 
garding all  claims  of  mere  seniority,  and  looking  only  for 
skill,  courage,  and   enterprise,   the   minister  placed    Wolfe 
and  Howe,  who  were  still  quite  young  men,  and  Amherst, 
who  was  but  just  forty,  in  important  commands.    A  power- 
ful fleet  was  sent  out  under  the  command  of  Boscawen  for 
an  attack  upon  Louisburg ;  the  English   had   soon    nearly 
50,000  men  under  arms,  and  of  these  about  22,000  were 
regular  troops,  while  the  regular  troops  on  the  side  of  France 
were  less  than  5,000.   Supplies  were  cut  off  by  the  fleet,  and 
the  French   Government  at  home  made  scarcely  a  serious 
effort  to  support  their  colonists.    Under  such  circumstances 
the  war  could  have  but  one  end.    In  1758  Louisburg,  with 
the    whole    of   Cape   Breton,   was  taken ;    and    in    another 
quarter  Fort  Duquesne,  which  had  borne  so  great  a  part  in 
the  first  events  of  the  war,  was  compelled  to  surrender,  but 
the  French  repulsed  with  great  loss  an  English  attack  upon 
Ticonderoga,  and  Lord  Howe  lost  his  life  in  the  battle.    In 
1759  Ticonderoga,  Crown  Point,  and  Niagara  were  captured 
in  swift  succession,  and  soon  after,  a  desperate  struggle  in 
which  both  sides  displayed  splendid  courage,  and  in  which 
both  Wolfe  and  Montcalm  found  a  glorious  end,  planted  the 
flag  of  England  on  the  heights  of  Quebec.    In   1760  the 
French  gained  one  last  victory  at  Sillery  and  even  laid  siege 
to  Quebec,  but  they  were  soon  obliged  to  retire  ;   the  con- 
quest was  completed  by  the  surrender  of  Montreal,  with  the 
last  French  army  ;  and  the  whole  of  Canada  passed  under 
the  English  rule.   .  .  . 


WILLIAM   PITT  THK  ELDER  357 

The  administration  of  Pitt  had  httle  or  nothing  to  say  to 
the  victories  of  Chvc,  but  it  contributed  much  by  its  prompt 
reinforcements,  and  by  the  expeditions  which  detained  the 
French  troops  in  their  own  country,  to  the  triumph  of  Coote 
in  Madras.    On  the  other  hand  the  rumours  of  great  victories 
in  a  distant  and  almost  unknown  land  inflamed  the  imagina- 
tions and  strengthened  the  enthusiasm  of  the  nation.     At 
the  close  of   1758  there  were  no  less  than  24,000   French 
prisoners   captive  in    England,  an  army   of  nearly  95,000 
British  and  7,000  foreign  troops  had  been  voted,  and  above 
twelve  millions  had  been  raised  for  the  ensuing  year.     Yet 
there  were  no  signs  of  flagging  or  discontent.    The  intoxica- 
tion of  glory  had  made  the  nation  indifferent  to  sacrifice,  and 
the  spell  which  the  great  minister  had  thrown  over  his  fellow- 
countrymen  was  unbroken.    It  was  noticed  that,  unlike  all 
previous  statesmen,  he  seemed  to  take  a  strange  pleasure  in 
rather  exaggerating  than  attenuating  the  pecuniary  sacrifices 
he  demanded,  and  his  eloquence  and  his  personal  ascendency 
almost  silenced  opposition.  .   .   .   Very  judiciously,  however, 
he   left  to  others  the   burden   and   the   odium  of  financial 
measures  and  of  parliamentary  management,  and  identified 
himself  only  with  those  military  enterprises  which  he  under- 
stood so  well.     '  Ignorant  of  the  whole  circle  of  finance,' 
wrote  an  acute  observer,  '  he  kept  aloof  from  all  details,  drew 
magnificent  plans,  and  left  others  to  find  the  magnificent 
means.    Disdaining  to  descend  into  the  operations  of  an  oflftce 
which  he  did  not  fill,  he  affected  to  throw  on  the  Treasury 
the  execution  of  measures  which  he  dictated.   .   .   .    Secluded 
from  all  eyes,  his  orders  were  received  as  oracles.    Their  suc- 
cess was  imputed  to  his  inspiration  —  misfortunes  and  mis- 
carriages fell  to  the  account  of  the  more  human  agents.'  .  .  . 
Although   he    cannot   be  said    to  have  carried  a    single 
definite    measure   increasing   the   power  of  the   people,   or 


358  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

diminishing  the  corrupt  influence  of  the  Crown  or  of  the 
aristocracy,  it  may  be  said,  without  a  paradox,  that  he  did 
more  for  the  popular  cause  than  any  statesman  since  the  gen- 
eration that  effected  the  Revolution.  With  very  little  parlia- 
mentary connection,  and  with  no  favour  from  royalty,  he 
became,  by  the  force  of  his  abilities,  and  by  the  unbounded 
popularity  which  he  enjoyed,  the  foremost  man  of  the  nation. 
In  him  the  people  for  the  first  time  felt  their  power.  He 
was  essentially  their  representative,  and  he  gloried  in  avow- 
ing it.  He  declared,  even  before  the  Privy  Council,  that  he 
had  been  called  to  office  by  the  voice  of  the  people,  and  that 
he  considered  himself  accountable  to  them  alone.  The  great 
towns,  and  especially  London,  constantly  and  warmly  sup- 
ported him  ;  and  though  his  popularity  was  sometimes  for  a 
short  time  eclipsed,  it  was  incomparably  greater  than  that  of 
any  previous  statesman.  In  our  day,  such  popularity,  united 
with  such  abilities,  would  have  enabled  a  statesman  to  defy 
all  opposition.  In  the  days  of  Pitt  it  was  not  so,  and  he 
soon  found  himself  incapable  of  conducting  government 
without  the  assistance  of  the  borough  patronage  of  the  aris- 
tocracy, or  of  resisting  the  hostility  of  the  Crown.  But 
although  he  was  not  omnipotent  in  politics,  the  voice  of 
the  people  at  least  made  him  so  powerful  that  no  Govern- 
ment was  stable  when  he  opposed  it,  and  that  all  parties 
sought  to  win  him  to  their  side.  This  was  a  new  fact  in  par- 
liamentary history,  and  it  marks  a  great  step  in  the  progress 
of  democracy. 

His  influence  was  also  very  great  in  raising  the  moral  tone 
of  public  life.  His  transparent  and  somewhat  ostentatious 
purity  formed  a  striking  contrast  to  the  prevailing  spirit  of 
English  politics,  and  the  power  and  persistence  with  which 
he  appealed  on  every  occasion  to  the  higher  and  unselfish 
motives  infused  a  new  moral  energ}'  into  the  nation.  .  ,  . 


THE  WAR  Willi   AMERICA  359 

...  By  Wesley  in  the  sphere  of  reHgion,  by  Pitt  in  the 
sphere  of  politics,  the  tone  of  thought  and  feeling  was 
changed,  and  this  is  perhaps  the  aspect  of  the  career  of 
Pitt  which  possesses  the  most  abiding  interest  and  impor- 
tance. The  standard  of  political  honour  was  perceptibly 
raised.  It  was  felt  that  enthusiasm,  disinterestedness,  and 
self-sacrifice  had  their  place  in  politics  ;  and  although  there 
was  afterwards,  for  short  periods,  extreme  corruption,  public 
opinion  never  acquiesced  in  it  again. 


Number  6j 
THE  WAR  WITH   AMERICA 

William  Pitt,  Earl  of  Chatham.  Excerpts  from  speech  delivered  in  the 
House  of  Lords,   November  18,  1777.    Chauncey  A.  Goodrich,  Select 
British  Eloqitoice,  pp.  134-138. 
For  the  author,  see  Number  62,  above. 

I  rise,  my  Lords,  to  declare  my  sentiments  on  this  most 
solemn  and  serious  subject.  It  has  imposed  a  load  upon  my 
mind,  which,  I  fear,  nothing  can  remove,  but  which  impels 
me  to  endeavor  its  alleviation,  by  a  free  and  unreserved 
communication  of  my  sentiments.    .    .    . 

.  .  .  The  desperate  stiite  of  our  arms  abroad  is  in  ])art  known. 
No  man  thinks  more  highly  of  them  than  1  do.  I  love  and 
honor  the  English  troops.  I  know  tluir  virtues  and  their 
valor.  I  know  they  can  achieve  anything  e.xcept  impossi- 
bilities ;  and  I  know  that  the  conquest  of  English  America 
is  an  impossibility.  You  can  not,  I  venture  to  sa)-  it,  you  can 
not  conquer  America.  Your  armies  last  war  effected  every- 
thing tliat  could  be  effected  ;  and  what  was  it .'  It  cost  a  nu- 
merous army,  under  the  command  of  a  most  able  general 
[Lord  Amherst],  now  a  noble  Lord  in  this  House,  a  long 


36o  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

and  laborious  campaign,  to  expel  five  thousand  Frenchmen 
from  French  America,  My  Lords,  yoii  can  not  conquer 
America.  What  is  your  present  situation  there  ?  We  do  not 
know  the  worst ;  but  we  know  that  in  three  campaigns  we 
have  done  nothing  and  suffered  much.  Besides  the  suffer- 
ings, perhaps  total  loss  of  the  Northern  force,  the  best  ap- 
pointed army  that  ever  took  the  field,  commanded  by  Sir 
William  Howe,  has  retired  from  the  American  lines.  He  zvas 
obliged  to  relinquish  his  attempt,  and  with  great  delay  and 
danger  to  adopt  a  new  and  distant  plan  of  operations.  We 
shall  soon  know,  and  in  any  event  have  reason  to  lament, 
what  may  have  happened  since.  As  to  conquest,  therefore, 
my  Lords,  I  repeat,  it  is  impossible.  You  may  swell  every 
expense  and  ever)'  effort  still  more  extravagantly ;  pile  and 
accumulate  every  assistance  you  can  buy  or  borrow  ;  traffic 
and  barter  with  every  little  pitiful  German  prince  that  sells 
and  sends  his  subjects  to  the  shambles  of  a  foreign  prince ; 
your  efforts  are  forever  vain  and  impotent  —  doubly  so  from 
this  mercenary  aid  on  which  you  rely ;  for  it  irritates,  to  an 
incurable  resentment,  the  minds  of  your  enemies,  to  overrun 
them  with  the  mercenar)'  sons  of  rapine  and  plunder,  devot- 
ing them  and  their  possessions  to  the  rapacity  of  hireling 
cruelty !  If  I  were  an  American,  as  I  am  an  Englishman, 
while  a  foreign  troop  was  landed  in  my  country,  I  never 
would  lay  down  my  arms  —  never  —  never  —  never. 

Your  own  army  is  infected  with  the  contagion  of  these 
illiberal  allies.  The  spirit  of  plunder  and  of  rapine  is  gone 
forth  among  them.  I  know  it ;  and,  notwithstanding  what 
the  noble  Earl  [Lord  Percy]  who  moved  the  address  has 
given  as  his  opinion  of  the  American  army,  I  know  from 
authentic  information,  and  the  most  experienced  officers,  that 
our  discipline  is  deeply  wounded.  While  this  is  notori- 
ously our  sinking  situation,  America  grows  and  flourishes  ; 


THE  WAR  Win  I   AMKRICA  361 

while  our  .strcn<:^h  and  discipline  are  lowered,  hers  are  rising 
and  improving. 

But,  my  Lords,  who  is  the  man  that,  in  addition  to  these 
disgraces  and  mischiefs  of  our  army,  has  dared  to  authorize 
and  associate  to  our  arms  the  tomahawk  and  scalping-knife 
of  the  savage  ?  to  call  into  civilized  alliance  the  wild  and 
inhuman  savage  of  the  woods  ;  to  delegate  to  the  merciless 
Indian  the  defense  of  disputed  rights,  and  to  wage  the  hor- 
rors of  his  barbarous  war  against  our  brethren  ?  My  Lords, 
these  enormities  cry  aloud  for  redress  and  punishment.  Unless 
thoroughly  done  away,  it  will  be  a  stain  on  the  national  char- 
acter. It  is  a  violation  of  the  Constitution.  I  believe  it  is 
against  law.  It  is  not  the  least  of  our  national  misfortunes 
that  the  strength  and  character  of  our  army  are  thus  impaired. 
Infected  with  the  mercenary  spirit  of  robbery  and  rapine ; 
familiarized  with  the  horrid  scenes  of  savage  cruelty,  it  can 
no  longer  boast  of  the  noble  and  generous  principles  which 
dignify  a  soldier ;  no  longer  sympathize  with  the  dignity  of 
the  royal  banner,  nor  feel  the  pride,  pomp,  and  circumstance 
of  glorious  war,  "  that  make  ambition  virtue  !  "  What  makes 
ambition  virtue  ?  —  the  sense  of  honor.  But  is  the  sense  of 
honor  consistent  with  a  spirit  of  plunder,  or  the  practice  of 
murder  ?  Can  it  flow  from  mercenary  motives,  or  can  it 
prompt  to  cruel  deeds .?  Besides  these  murderers  and  plun- 
derers, let  me  ask  our  ministers,  What  other  allies  have  they 
acquired?  What  othci' powers  have  they  associated  to  their 
cause  ."*  Have  they  entered  into  alliance  with  the  king  of  the 
gipsies  ?  Nothing,  my  Lords,  is  too  low  or  too  ludicrous  to 
be  consistent  with  their  counsels. 

The  independent  views  of  America  have  been  stated  and 
asserted  as  the  foundation  of  this  address.  My  Lords,  no  man 
wishes  for  the  due  dependence  of  America  on  this  country 
more  than  I  do.    To  preserve  it,  and  not  confirm  that  state 


362  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

of  independence  into  which  j^z/rm^rtj-^/^rj  hitherto  have  driven 
them,  is  the  object  which  we  ought  to  unite  in  attaining. 
The  Americans,  contending  for  their  rights  against  arbi- 
trary exactions,  I  love  and  admire.  It  is  the  struggle  of  free 
and  virtuous  patriots.  But,  contending  for  independency  and 
total  disconnection  from  England,  as  an  Englishman,  I  can- 
not wish  them  success  ;  for  in  a  due  constitutional  dependency, 
including  the  ancient  supremacy  of  this  countr}'  in  regulating 
their  commerce  and  navigation,  consists  the  mutual  happiness 
and  prosperity  both  of  England  and  America.  ...  I  would 
participate  to  them  every  enjoyment  and  freedom  which  the 
colonizing  subjects  of  a  free  state  can  possess,  or  wish  to 
possess  ;  and  I  do  not  see  why  they  should  not  enjoy  every 
fundamental  right  in  their  property,  and  every  original  sub- 
stantial liberty,  which  Devonshire,  or  Surrey,  or  the  county 
I  live  in,  or  any  other  county  in  England,  can  claim  ;  reserv- 
ing always,  as  the  sacred  right  of  the  mother  country,  the 
due  constitutional  dependency  of  the  colonies.  The  inherent 
supremacy  of  the  state  in  regulating  and  protecting  the  navi- 
gation and  commerce  of  all  her  subjects,  is  necessary  for  the 
mutual  benefit  and  preservation  of  every  part,  to  constitute  and 
preserve  the  prosperous  arrangement  of  the  whole  empire.  .  .  . 
You  can  not  conciliate  America  by  your  present  measures. 
You  can  not  subdue  her  by  your  present  or  by  any  measures. 
What,  then,  can  you  do  >  You  can  not  conquer  ;  you  can  not 
gain  ;  but  you  can  address;  you  can  lull  the  fears  and  anxie- 
ties of  the  moment  into  an  ignorance  of  the  danger  that 
should  produce  them.  But,  my  Lords,  the  time  demands  the 
language  of  truth.  We  must  not  now  apply  the  flattering 
unction  of  servile  compliance  or  blind  complaisance.  In  a 
just  and  necessary  war,  to  maintain  the  rights  or  honor  of  my 
country,  I  would  strip  the  shirt  from  my  back  to  support  it. 
But  in  such  a  w-ar  as  this,  unjust  in  its  principle,  impracticable 


THE  WAR  WITH   AMERICA  363 

in  its  means,  and  ruinous  in  its  consequences,  I  would  not 
contribute  a  single  effort  nor  a  single  shilling.  I  do  not  call 
for  vengeance  on  the  heads  of  those  who  have  been  guilty  ; 
I  only  recommend  to  them  to  make  their  retreat.  Let  them 
walk  off ;  and  let  them  make  haste,  or  they  may  be  assured 
that  speedy  and  condign  punishment  will  overtake  them.  .  .  . 
My  Lords,  to  encourage  and  confirm  that  innate  inclination 
to  this  country,  founded  on  every  principle  of  affection,  as 
well  as  consideration  of  interest ;  to  restore  that  favorable 
disposition  into  a  permanent  and  powerful  reunion  with  this 
country  ;  to  revive  the  mutual  strength  of  the  empire  ;  again 
to  awe  the  house  of  l^ourbon,  instead  of  meanly  truckling,  as 
our  present  calamities  compel  us,  to  every  insult  of  French 
caprice  and  Spanish  punctilio  ;  to  re-establish  our  commerce  ; 
to  reassert  our  rights  and  our  honor  ;  to  confirm  our  interests, 
and  renew  our  glories  forever — a  consummation  most  de- 
voutly to  be  endeavored  !  and  which,  I  trust,  may  yet  arise 
from  reconciliation  with  America  —  I  have  the  honor  of  sub- 
mitting to  you  the  following  amendment,  which  I  move  to 
be  inserted  after  the  two  first  paragraphs  of  the  address  : 

"And  that  this  House  does  most  humbly  advise  and  supplicate  his 
Majesty  to  be  pleased  to  cause  the  most  speedy  and  effectual  measures 
to  be  taken  for  restoring  peace  in  America;  and  that  no  time  may  be 
lost  in  proposing  an  immediate  cessation  of  hostilities  there,  in  order  to 
the  opening  of  a  treaty  for  the  final  settlement  of  the  tranquillity  of 
these  invaluable  provinces,  by  a  removal  of  the  unhappy  causes  of  this 
ruinous  civil  war,  and  by  a  just  and  adequate  security  against  the  return 
of  the  like  calamities  in  times  to  come.  And  this  House  desire  to  offer 
the  most  dutiful  assurances  to  his  Majesty,  that  they  will,  in  due  time, 
cheerfully  co-operate  with  the  magnanimity  and  tender  goodness  of  his 
Majesty  for  the  preservation  of  his  people,  by  such  explicit  and  most 
solemn  declarations,  and  provisions  of  fundamental  and  irrevocable  laws, 
as  may  be  judged  necessary  for  the  ascertaining  and  fixing  forever  the 
respective  rights  of  Great  Britain  and  her  colonies." 


364  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

Nimiber  64. 

SALE    OF   SEATS   IN    PARLIAMENT 
(EIGHTEENTH   CENTURY) 

Sir  Samuel  Rom  illy.  Me?noirs,\o\.  II,  pp.  200-202.  Edward  P.  Cheyney, 
Headings  in  English  History,  pp.  643-645. 
Sir  Samuel  Romilly  was  one  of  the  most  high-minded,  patriotic,  and  use- 
ful public  men  of  his  time.  What  he  tells  in  his  journal  of  his  difficulty  in 
obtaining  and  keeping  a  seat  in  the  House  of  Commons  .  .  .  throws  a  strong 
light  on  the  bad  methods  of  election  of  members  of  parliament,  on  its  fail- 
ure to  represent  the  people  of  the  country,  and  on  the  opportunities  for 
corruption  it  offered.  These  extracts  refer  to  a  period  somewhat  later  than 
1784,  when  Pitt  strove  to  introduce  the  reform  of  parliament,  but  the  con- 
ditions were  just  the  same  at  that  time,  and  in  fact  had  long  been  so,  and 
remained  unchanged  well  into  the  nineteenth  century. 

I  shall  procure  myself  a  seat  in  the  new  parliament,  unless 
I  find  that  it  will  cost  so  large  a  sum,  as,  in  the  state  of  my 
family,  it  would  be  very  imprudent  for  me  to  devote  to  such 
an  object,  which  I  find  is  very  likely  to  be  the  case.  Tierney, 
who  manages  this  business  for  the  friends  of  the  late  ad- 
ministration, assures  me  that  he  can  hear  of  no  seats  to 
be  disposed  of. 

After  a  parliament  which  has  lived  little  more  than  four 
months,  one  would  naturally  suppose  that  those  seats  which 
are  regularly  sold  by  the  proprietors  of  them  would  be  very 
cheap  ;  they  are,  however,  in  fact,  sold  now  at  a  higher  price 
than  was  ever  given  for  them  before.  Tierney  tells  me  that 
he  has  offered  ;^  10,000  for  the  two  seats  of  Westbury,  the 
property  of  the  late  Lord  Abingdon,  and  which  are  to  be 
made  the  most  of  by  trustees  for  creditors,  and  has  met  with 
a  refusal.  ^^6000  and  ;^5  500  have  been  given  for  seats 
with  no  stipulation  as  to  time,  or  against  the  event  of  a 
speedy  dissolution  by  the  king's  death  or  by  any  change  of 
administration. 


SALE  OF  SEATS   IN    PARLIAMENT  365 

The  truth  is,  that  the  new  ministers  have  bought  up  all  the 
seats  that  were  to  be  disposed  of,  and  at  any  prices.    Amongst 

others,  Sir  C.  H. ,  the  great  dealer  in  boroughs,  has  sold  all 

he  had  to  ministers.  With  what  money  all  this  is  done  I  know 
not,  but  it  is  supposed  that  the  king,  who  has  greatly  at  heart 
to  preserve  this  new  administration,  the  favorite  objects  of  his 
choice,  has  advanced  a  ver}^  large  sum  out  of  his  privy  purse. 

This  buying  of  seats  is  detestable  ;  and  yet  it  is  almost  the 
only  way  in  which  one  in  my  situation,  who  is  resolved  to 
be  an  independent  man,  can  get  into  parliament.  To  come 
in  by  a  popular  election,  in  the  present  state  of  the  represen- 
tation, is  quite  impossible  ;  to  be  placed  there  by  some  great 
lord,  and  to  vote  as  he  shall  direct,  is  to  be  in  a  state  of 
complete  dependence ;  and  nothing  hardly  remains  but  to 
owe  a  seat  to  the  sacrifice  of  a  part  of  one's  fortune. 

It  is  true  tliat  many  men  who  buy  scats  do  it  as  a  matter 
of  pecuniar)^  speculation,  as  a  profitable  way  of  employing 
their  money  :  they  carry  on  a  political  trade  ;  they  buy  their 
seats  and  sell  their  votes.  For  m)self,  I  can  truly  say  that, 
by  giving  money  for  a  seat,  I  shall  make  a  sacrifice  of  my 
private  property,  merely  that  I  may  be  enabled  to  serve  the 
public.  I  know  what  danger  there  is  of  men's  disguising  from 
themselves  the  real  motives  of  their  action  ;  but  it  really  does 
appear  to  me  that  it  is  from  this  motive  alone  that  I  act. 

After  almost  despairing  of  being  able  to  get  any  seat  in 
parliament,  my  friend  Piggott  has  at  last  procured  me  one  ; 
and  the  duke  of  Norfolk  has  consented  to  bring  me  in  for 
Horsham.  It  is,  however,  but  a  precarious  seat.  I  shall  be 
returned,  as  I  shall  have  a  majority  of  \-otes,  which  the  late 
committee  of  the  House  of  Commons  decided  to  be  good 
ones  ;  but  there  will  be  a  petition  against  the  return,  by  the 
candidates  who  will  stand  on  Lady  Irwin's  interest,  and  it  is 
extremely  doubtful  what  will  be  the  event  of  the  petition.  .  .  . 


-66  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

The  terms  upon  which  I  have  my  seat  at  Horsham  will 
be  best  explained  by  a  letter  I  wrote  to  Piggott  to-day  after  the 
election  was  over,  and  which  I  am  glad  to  keep  a  copy  of.  It 
is  (at  least  so  much  of  it  as  relates  to  this  subject)  in  these 
words  :  "'  Though  there  is  no  danger  that  I  should  have  mis- 
understood you,  yet  it  may  be  as  well  to  say,  while  it  is  fresh 
in  both  our  recollections,  what  I  understand  to  be  the  extent 
of  my  engagement.  If  I  keep  the  seat,  either  by  the  decision 
of  a  committee  upon  a  petition,  or  by  a  compromise  (the 
duke  and  Lady  Irwin  returning  one  member  each,  in  which 
case  it  is  understood  that  I  am  to  be  the  member  who  con- 
tinues), I  am  to  pay  ;^2000 ;  if,  upon  a  petition,  I  lose  the 
seat,  I  am  not  to  be  at  any  expense." 


Nitmbcr  6§ 
THE   BATTLE    OF  TRAFALGAR 

Robert  Southey.   Life  of  N'ehon,  pp.  360-383,/^.?.?/;;/. 

Robert  Southey  was  a  contemporary  of  Nelson.  This  account  of  the 
battle  of  Trafalgar  was  written  while  the  incidents  of  the  struggle  were 
still  fresh  in  men's  minds. 

...  At  daybreak  the  combined  fleets  were  distincdy  seen 
from  the  Victory  s  deck,  formed  in  a  close  line  of  battle  ahead, 
on  the  starboard  tack,  about  twelve  miles  to  leeward,  and  stand- 
ing to  the  south.  Our  fleet  consisted  of  twenty-seven  sail  of 
the  line  and  four  frigates  ;  theirs  of  thirty-three  and  seven  large 
frigates.  Their  superiority  was  greater  in  size  and  weight  of 
metal  than  in  numbers.  They  had  four  thousand  troops  on 
board  ;  and  the  best  riflemen  who  could  be  procured,  many 
of  them  Tyrolese,  were  dispersed  through  the  ships.  Little 
did  the  Tyrolese,  and  little  did  the  Spaniards,  at  that  day, 


THE  BATTLE  C)V  TRAFALGAR  367 

imagine  what  horrors  the  wicked  tyrant  whom  they  served 
was  preparing  for  their  country. 

Soon  after  dayhght  Nelson  came  upon  deck.  The  2 1  st  of 
October  was  a  festival  in  his  family,  because  on  that  day  his 
uncle,  Captain  Suckling,  in  the  Dreadtwught,  with  two  other 
line-of-battle  ships,  had  beaten  off  a  French  squadron  of  four 
sail  of  the  line  and  three  frigates.  Nelson,  with  that  sort  of 
superstition  from  which  few  persons  are  entirely  exempt,  had 
more  than  once  expressed  his  persuasion  that  this  was  to  be 
the  day  of  his  battle  also ;  and  he  was  well  pleased  at  seeing 
his  prediction  about  to  be  verified.  The  wind  was  now  from 
the  west,  light  breezes,  with  a  long  heavy  swell.  Signal  was 
made  to  bear  down  upon  the  enemy  in  two  lines  ;  and  the  fleet 
set  all  sail.  CoUingwood,  in  the  Royal  Sovereign,  led  the  lee 
line  of  thirteen  ships  ;  the  Victory  led  the  weather  line  of 
fourteen.  Having  seen  that  all  was  as  it  should  be.  Nelson 
retired  to  his  cabin,  and  wrote  the  following  prayer  :  — 

"  May  the  (^rcat  (iod,  whom  I  worship,  grant  to  my  country,  and  for 
the  benefit  of  Europe  in  general,  a  great  and  glorious  victory ;  and  may 
no  misconduct  in  any  one  tarnish  it !  and  may  humanity  after  victory  be 
the  predominant  feature  in  the  British  fleet !  For  myself  individually, 
I  commit  my  life  to  Him  that  made  me;  and  may  His  blessing  alight 
on  my  endeavours  for  serving  my  country  faithfully  !  To  Him  I  resign 
myself,  and  the  just  cause  which  is  intrusted  to  me  to  defend.  Amen, 
Amen,  Amen."'  ... 

Blackwood  went  on  board  the  Mctory  about  six.  He  found 
him  in  good  spirits,  but  very  calm  ;  not  in  that  exhilaration 
which  he  had  felt  upon  entering  into  battle  at  Aboukir  and 
Copenhagen  :  he  knew  that  his  own  life  would  be  particularly 
aimed  at,  and  seems  to  have  looked  for  death  with  almost  as 
sure  an  expectation  as  for  victory.  His  whole  attention  was 
fixed  upon  the  enemy.  They  tacked  to  the  northward,  and 
formed  their  line  on  the  larboard  tack  ;  thus  bringing  the 


^68  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

shoals  of  Trafalgar  and  St.  Pedro  under  the  lee  of  the  British, 
and  keeping  the  port  of  Cadiz  open  for  themselves.  This 
was  judiciously  done  ;  and  Nelson,  aware  of  all  the  advan- 
tages which  it  gave  them,  made  signal  to  prepare  to  anchor. 
Villeneuve  was  a  skilful  seaman  ;  worthy  of  serving  a  better 
master,  and  a  better  cause.  His  plan  of  defence  was  as  well 
conceived,  and  as  original,  as  the  plan  of  attack.  He  formed 
the  fleet  in  a  double  line  ;  every  alternate  ship  being  about  a 
cable's  length  to  windward  of  her  second  ahead  and  astern. 
Nelson,  certain  of  a  triumphant  issue  to  the  day,  asked  Black- 
wood what  he  should  consider  as  a  victory.  That  officer 
answered,  that,  considering  the  handsome  way  in  which  battle 
was  offered  by  the  enemy,  their  apparent  determination  for  a 
fair  trial  of  strength,  and  the  situation  of  the  land,  he  thought 
it  would  be  a  glorious  result  if  fourteen  were  captured.  He 
replied  :  "  I  shall  not  be  satisfied  with  less  than  twenty." 
Soon  afterwards  he  asked  him,  if  he  did  not  think  there  was 
a  signal  wanting.  Captain  Blackwood  made  answer,  that  he, 
thought  the  whole  fleet  seemed  very  clearly  to  understand 
what  they  were  about.  These  words  were  scarcely  spoken 
before  that  signal  was  made,  which  will  be  remembered  as 
long  as  the  language,  or  even  the  memory,  of  England  shall 
endure  —  Nelson's  last  signal :  —  '"  England  expects  every 
MAN  TO  DO  HIS  DUTY  !  "  It  was  received  throughout  the  fleet 
with  a  shout  of  answering  acclamation,  made  sublime  by  the 
spirit  which  it  breathed,  and  the  feeling  which  it  expressed. 
'"  Now,"  said  Lord  Nelson,  "I  can  do  no  more.  We  must 
trust  to  the  Great  Disposer  of  all  events,  and  the  justice  of 
our  cause.  I  thank  God  for  this  great  opportunity  of  doing 
my  duty." 

He  wore  that  day,  as  usual,  his  admiral's  frock  coat,  bear- 
ing on  the  left  breast  four  stars,  of  the  different  orders  with 
which  he  was  invested.    Ornaments  which  rendered  him  so 


THE  BATTLE  OF  TRAFALGAR       369 

conspicuous  a  mark  for  the  enemy  were  beheld  with  ominous 
apprehensions  by  his  officers.    It  was  known  that  there  were 
riflemen  on  board  the  French  ships;   and  it  could  not  be 
doubted  but  that  his  hfe  would  be  particularly  aimed  at.  They 
communicated  their  fears  to  each   other ;  and  the  surgeon, 
Mr.  Beatty,  spoke  to  the  chaplain,  Dr.  Scott,  and  to  Mr.  Scott, 
the  public  secretary,  desiring  that  some  person  would  entreat 
him  to  change  his  dress,  or  cover  the  stars ;  but  they  knew 
that  such  a  request  would  highly  displease  him.    ""In  honour 
I  gained  them,"  he  had  said,  when  such  a  thing  had  been 
hinted  to  him  formerly,   "'and   in  honour    I   will   die  with 
them."    Mr.  Beatty,  however,  would  not  have  been  deterred 
by  any  fear  of  exciting  displeasure,  from  speaking  to  him  him- 
self upon  a  subject  in  which  the  weal  of  England,  as  well  as 
the  life  of  Nelson,  was  concerned  —  but  he  was  ordered  from 
the  deck  before   he  could  find  an  opportunity.    This  was  a 
point  upon  which  Nelson's  officers  knew  that  it  was  hopeless 
to  remonstrate  or  reason  with  him  ;  but  both  Blackwood  and 
his  own  captain.  Hardy,  represented  to  him  how  advantageous 
to  the  fleet  it  would  be  for  him  to  keep  out  of  action  as  long 
as  possible  ;  and  he  consented  at  last  to  let  the  Leviathan 
and  the  Temeraire,  which  were  sailing  abreast  of  the  Victory, 
be  ordered  to  pass  ahead.   Yet  even  here  the  last  infirmity  of 
this  noble  mind  was  indulged  ;  for  these  ships  could  not  pass 
ahead  if  the  Victory  continued  to  carry  all  her  sail ;  and  so 
far  was  Nelson  from  shortening  sail,  that  it  was  evident  he 
took  pleasure  in  pressing  on,  and  rendering  it  impossible  for 
them  to  obey  his  own  orders.    A  long  swell  was  setting  into 
the  Bay  of  Cadiz  :  our  ships,  crowding  all  sail,  moved  majes- 
tically before  it,  with  light  winds  from  the  south-west.    The 
sun  shone  on  the  sails  of  the  enemy  ;  and  their  well-formed 
line,  with  their  numerous  three-deckers,  made  an  appearance 
which  an\-  other  assailants  would  have  thought  formidable ; 


370  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

but  the  British  sailors  only  admired  the  beauty  and  the  splen- 
dour of  the  spectacle  ;  and,  in  full  confidence  of  winning  what 
they  saw,  remarked  to  each  other,  what  a  fine  sight  yonder 
ships  would  make  at  Spithead  ! 

The  French  admiral,  from  the  Bjicentatire,  beheld  the  new 
manner  in  which  his  enemy  was  advancing — Nelson  and 
Collingwood  each  leading  his  line  ;  and  pointing  them  out 
to  his  officers,  he  is  said  to  have  exclaimed,  that  such  con- 
duct could  not  fail  to  be  successful.  Yet  Villeneuve  had  made 
his  own  dispositions  with  the  utmost  skill,  and  the  fleets  under 
his  command  waited  for  the  attack  with  perfect  coolness. 
Ten  minutes  before  twelve  they  opened  their  fire.  Eight  or 
nine  of  the  ships  immediately  ahead  of  the  Victory,  and  across 
her  bows,  fired  single  guns  at  her,  to  ascertain  whether  she 
was  yet  within  their  range.  As  soon  as  Nelson  perceived 
that  their  shot  passed  over  him,  he  desired  Blackwood,  and 
Captain  Prowse,  of  the  Siriits,  to  repair  to  their  respective 
frigates  ;  and,  on  their  way,  to  tell  all  the  captains  of  the 
line-of-battle  ships  that  he  depended  on  their  exertions  ;  and 
that,  if  by  the  prescribed  mode  of  attack  they  found  it  im- 
practicable to  get  into  action  immediately,  they  might  adopt 
whatever  they  thought  best,  provided  it  led  them  quickly  and 
closely  alongside  an  enemy.  As  they  were  standing  on  the 
front  poop,  Blackwood  took  him  by  the  hand,  saying,  he 
hoped  soon  to  return  and  find  him  in  possession  of  twenty 
prizes.  He  replied,  "  God  bless  you,  Blackwood ;  I  shall 
never  see  you  again!" 

Nelson's  column  was  steered  about  two  points  more  to  the 
north  than  Collingwood's,  in  order  to  cut  off  the  enemy's 
escape  into  Cadiz  :  the  lee  line,  therefore,  was  first  engaged. 
"'  See,"  cried  Nelson,  pointing  to  the  Royal  Sovereign,  as 
she  steered  right  for  the  centre  of  the  enemy's  line,  cut  through 
it  astern  of  the  Santa  Anna,  three-decker,  and  engaged  her 


TTIE   r,.\'l"l'M':  OF  'I'KAI   \L(;ar  371 

at  the  muzzle  of  her  guns  on  the  starboard  side  ;  "  see  how 
that  noble  fellow,  Collingwood,  carries  his  ship  into  action  !  " 
Collingwood,  delighted  at  being  first  in  the  heat  of  the  fire, 
and  knowing  the  feelings  of  his  commander  and  old  friend, 
turned  to  his  captain,  and  exclaimed  :  "  Rotherham,  what 
would  Nelson  give  to  be  here?  "  Both  these  brave  officers, 
perhaps,  at  this  moment,  thought  of  Nelson  with  gratitude, 
for  a  circumstance  which  had  occurred  on  the  preceding  day. 
Admiral  Collingwood,  with  some  of  the  captains,  having  gone 
on  board  the  J  Ictory  to  receive  instructions.  Nelson  inquired 
of  him  where  his  captain  was;  and  was  told,  in  reply,  that 
they  were  not  upon  good  terms  with  each  other.  "Terms  !  " 
said  Nelson,  "'  good  terms  with  each  other  !  "  Immediately  he 
sent  a  boat  for  Captain  Rotherham  ;  led  him,  as  soon  as  he 
arrived,  to  Collingwood,  and  paying:  "Look;  yonder  are  the 
enemy  !  "  bade  them  shake  hands  like  Englishmen. 

The  enemy  continued  to  fire  a  gun  at  a  time  at  the  Victory, 
till  they  saw  that  a  shot  had  passed  through  her  main-top- 
gallant sail ;  then  they  opened  their  broadsides,  aiming  chiefly 
at  her  rigging,  in  the  hope  of  disabling  her  before  she  could 
close  with  them.  Nelson,  as  usual,  had  hoisted  several  flags, 
lest  one  should  be  shot  away.  The  enemy  showed  no  colours 
till  late  in  the  action,  when  they  began  to  feel  the  necessity 
of  having  them  to  strike.  For  this  reason,  the  Santissima 
Trinidad,  Nelson's  old  acquaintance,  as  he  used  to  call  her, 
was  distinguishable  only  by  her  four  decks  ;  and  to  the  bow 
of  this  opponent  he  ordered  the  Victory  to  be  steered.  Mean- 
time an  incessant  raking  fire  was  kept  up  upon  the  Victory. 
The  admiral's  secretary  was  one  of  the  first  who  fell  ;  he  was 
killed  by  a  cannon-shot,  while  conversing  with  Hardy.  Captain 
Adair  of  the  marines,  with  the  help  of  a  sailor,  endeavoured 
to  remove  the  body  from  Nelson's  sight,  who  had  a  great 
regard  for  Mr.  Scott ;  but  he  anxiously  asked,  "  Is  that  poor 


372  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH   HISTORY 

Scott  that's  gone?  "  and  being  informed  that  it  was  indeed 
so,  exclaimed,  "Poor  fellow!"  Presently,  a  double-headed 
shot  struck  a  party  of  marines,  who  were  drawn  up  on  the 
poop,  and  killed  eight  of  them  :  upon  which  Nelson  imme- 
diately desired  Captain  Adair  to  disperse  his  men  round  the 
ship,  that  they  might  not  suffer  so  much  from  being  together. 
A  few  minutes  afterwards  a  shot  struck  the  fore-brace  bits  on 
the  quarter-deck,  and  passed  between  Nelson  and  Hardy,  a 
splinter  from  the  bit  tearing  off  Hardy's  buckle,  and  bruising 
his  foot.  Both  stopped,  and  looked  anxiously  at  each  other  : 
each  supposed  the  other  to  be' wounded.  Nelson  then  smiled, 
and  said  :  "  This  is  too  warm  work.  Hardy,  to  last  long." 

The  Victory  had  not  yet  returned  a  single  gun  ;  fifty  of 
her  men  had  been  by  this  time  killed  or  wounded,  and  her 
main-top-mast  with  all  her  stydding-sails  and  their  booms 
shot  away.  Nelson  declared,  that,  in  all  his  battles,  he  had 
seen  nothing  which  surpassed  the  cool  courage  of  his  crew 
on  this  occasion.  At  four  minutes  after  twelvcj  she  opened 
her  fire  from  both  sides  of  her  deck.  It  was  not  possible 
to  break  the  enemy's  line  without  running  on  board  one  of 
their  ships  ;  Hardy  informed  him  of  this,  and  asked  him 
which  he  would  prefer.  Nelson  replied:  "Take  your  choice, 
Hardy,  it  does  not  signify  much."  The  master  was  ordered 
to  put  the  helm  to  port,  and  the  Victory  ran  on  board  the 
Redoubtable,  just  as  her  tiller-ropes  were  shot  away.  The 
French  ship  received  her  with  a  broadside  ;  then  instantly 
let  down  her  lower-deck  ports,  for  fear  of  being  boarded 
through  them,  and  never  afterwards  fired  a  great  gun  during 
the  action.  Her  tops,  like  those  of  all  the  enemy's  ships, 
were  full  of  riflemen.  Nelson  never  placed  musketry  in  his 
tops  ;  he  had  a  strong  dislike  to  the  practice  :  not  merely 
because  it  endangers  setting  fire  to  the  sails,  but  also  because 
it  is  a  murderous  sort  of  warfare,  by  which  individuals  may 


THE   BATTLE  OF  TRAl ALGAR  373 

suffer,  and  a  commander  now  and  then  be  picked  off,  but 
which  never  can  decide  the  fate  of  a  general  engagement. 

Captain  Harvey,  in  the  Ternerairc,  fell  on  board  the  Re- 
doubtable on  the  other  side.  Another  enemy  was  in  like  manner 
on  board  the  Tcmeraire,  so  that  these  four  ships  formed  as 
compact  a  tier  as  if  they  had  been  moored  together,  their 
heads  lying  all  the  same  way.  The  lieutenants  of  the  Victory, 
seeing  this,  depressed  their  guns  of  the  middle  and  lower 
decks,  and  fired  with  a  diminished  charge,  lest  the  shot  should 
pass  through  and  injure  the  Temcrairc.  And  because  there 
was  danger  that  the  Redoubtable  might  take  fire  from  the 
lower-deck  guns,  the  muzzles  of  which  touched  her  side  when 
they  were  run  out,  the  fireman  of  each  gun  stood  ready  with 
a  bucket  of  water ;  which,  as  soon  as  the  gim  was  discharged, 
he  dashed  into  the  hole  made  by  the  shot.  An  incessant 
fire  was  kept  up  from  the  ]  Ictory  from  both  sides  ;  her 
larboard  guns  playing  upon  the  Ihicentaure,  and  the  huge 
Santissima   Trinidad. 

It  had  been  part  of  Nelson's  prayer,  that  the  British  fleet 
might  be  distinguished  by  humanity  in  the  victory  he  ex- 
pected. Setting  an  example  himself,  he  twice  gave  orders 
to  cease  firing  upon  the  Redoubtable,  supposing  that  she  had 
struck,  because  her  great  gims  were  silent ;  for,  as  she  car- 
ried no  flag,  there  was  no  means  of  instantly  ascertaining  the 
fact.  From  this  ship,  which  he  had  thus  twice  spared,  he  re- 
ceived his  death.  A  ball  fired  from  her  mizzen-top,  which, 
in  the  then  situation  of  the  two  vessels,  was  not  more  than 
fifteen  \ards  from  that  part  of  the  deck  where  he  was 
standing,  struck  the  epaulette  on  his  left  shoulder,  about  a 
quarter  after  one,  just  in  the  heat  of  action.  He  fell  upon 
his  face,  on  the  spot  which  was  covered  with  his  poor  secre- 
tary's blood.  Hardy,  who  was  a  few  steps  from  him,  turning 
round,  saw  three  men  raising  him  up.    "They  have  done  for 


374  READINGS  IN   ENGLISH  HISTORY 

me  at  last,  Hardy!  "  said  he.  "'  I  hope  not !  "  cried  Hardy. 
"Yes,"  he  repHed  ;  "'  my  back-bone  is  shot  through  !  "  Yet 
even  now,  not  for  a  moment  losing  his  presence  of  mind,  he 
observed,  as  they  were  carrying  him  down  the  ladder,  that 
the  tiller-ropes,  which  had  been  shot  away,  were  not  yet  re- 
placed, and  ordered  that  new  ones  should  be  rove  immedi- 
ately. Then,  that  he  might  not  be  seen  by  the  crew,  he 
took  out  his  handkerchief,  and  covered  his  face  and  his 
stars.  Had  he  but  concealed  these  badges  of  honour  from 
the  enemy,  England,  perhaps,  would  not  have  had  cause 
to  receive  with  sorrow  the  news  of  the  battle  of  Trafalgar. 
The  cockpit  was  crowded  with  wounded  and  dying  men  ; 
over  whose  bodies  he  was  with  some  difficulty  conveyed,  and 
laid  upon  a  pallet  in  the  midshipmen's  berth.  It  was  soon 
perceived,  upon  examination,  that  the  wound  was  mortal.  This, 
however,  was  concealed  from  all  except  Captain  Hardy,  the 
chaplain,  and  the  medical  attendants.  He  himself  being  cer- 
tain, from  the  sensation  in  his  back,  and  the  gush  of  blood 
he  felt  momently  within  his  breast,  that  no  human  care 
could  avail  him,  insisted  that  the  surgeon  should  leave  him, 
and  attend  to  those  to  whom  he  might  be  useful.  "  For," 
said  he,  "  you  can  do  nothing  for  me."  All  that  could  be  done 
was  to  fan  him  with  paper,  and  frequently  to  give  him  lemon- 
ade to  alleviate  his  intense  thirst.  He  was  in  great  pain,  and 
expressed  much  anxiety  for  the  event  of  the  action,  which 
now  began  to  declare  itself.  As  often  as  a  ship  struck,  the 
crew  of  the  Victory  hurrahed  ;  and  at  every  hurrah,  a  visible 
expression  of  joy  gleamed  in  the  eyes,  and  marked  the  coun- 
tenance, of  the  dying  hero.  But  he  became  impatient  to  see 
Captain  Hardy ;  and  as  that  officer,  though  often  sent  for, 
could  not  leave  the  deck.  Nelson  feared  that  some  fatal  cause 
prevented  him,  and  repeatedly  cried  :  "  Will  no  one  bring 
Hardy  to  me  t    He  must  be  killed  !    He  is  surely  dead !  " 


THE  BATTLE  OF  TRAFALGAR       375 

An  hour  and  ten  minutes  elapsed  from  the  time  when  Nel- 
son received  his  wound,  before  Hardy  could  come  to  liim. 
They  shook  hands  in  silence  ;  Hardy  in  vain  struggling  to 
suppress  the  feelings  of  that  most  painful  and  yet  sublimest 
moment.  "'  Well,  Hardy,"  said  Nelson  ;  "  how  goes  the  day 
with  us?"  "Very  well,"  replied  Hardy;  "ten  ships  have 
struck,  but  five  of  the  van  have  tacked,  and  show  an  inten- 
tion to  bear  down  upon  the  Victory.  I  have  called  two  or 
three  of  our  fresh  ships  round,  and  have  no  doubt  of  giving 
them  a  drubbing."  "  I  hope,"  said  Nelson,  "  none  of  our 
ships  have  struck  .?  "  Hardy  answered,  "  There  is  no  fear 
of  that."  Then,  and  not  till  then.  Nelson  spoke  of  himself. 
"  I  am  a  dead  man,  Hardy,"  said  he:  "I  am  going  fast; 
it  will  be  all  over  with  me  soon.  ..." 

.  .  .  Captain  Hardy,  some  fifty  minutes  after  he  had  left 
the  cockpit,  returned,  and  again  taking  the  hand  of  his  dying 
friend  and  commander,  congratulated  him  on  having  gained 
a  complete  victory.  How  many  of  the  enemy  were  taken  he 
did  not  know,  as  it  was  impossible  to  perceive  them  distinctly, 
but  fourteen  or  fifteen  at  least.  "  That 's  well !  "  cried  Nel- 
son ;  "  but  I  bargained  for  twenty."  And  then,  in  a  stronger 
voice,  he  said  :  "Anchor,  Hardy;  anchor."   .  .  . 

The  Redoubtable  struck  within  twenty  minutes  after  the 
fatal  shot  had  been  fired  from  her.  During  that  time  she  had 
been  twice  on  fire  ;  in  her  forechains,  and  in  her  forecastle. 
The  French,  as  they  had  done  in  other  battles,  made  use  in 
this  of  fire-balls,  and  other  combustibles ;  implements  of  de- 
struction which  other  nations,  from  a  sense  of  honour  and 
humanity,  have  laid  aside  ;  which  add  to  the  sufferings  of  the 
wounded,  without  determining  the  issue  of  the  combat ;  which 
none  but  the  cruel  would  employ  ;  and  which  never  can  be 
successful  against  the  brave.  Once  they  succeeded  in  setting 
fire,  from  the  Redoubtable,  to  some  ropes  and  canvas  on  the 


'> 


76  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 


l^ictorys  booms.  The  cry  ran  through  the  ship,  and  reached 
the  cockpit ;  but  even  this  dreadful  cry  produced  no  confu- 
sion ;  the  men  displayed  that  perfect  self-possession  in  danger 
by  which  English  seamen  are  characterised ;  they  extinguished 
the  flames  on  board  their  own  ship,  and  then  hastened  to 
extinguish  them  in  the  enemy,  by  throwing  buckets  of  water 
from  the  gangway.  When  the  Redoubtable  had  struck,  it  was 
not  practicable  to  board  her  from  the  Victory,  for,  though 
the  two  ships  touched,  the  upper  works  of  both  fell  in  so 
much  that  there  was  a  great  space  between  their  gangways ; 
and  she  could  not  be  boarded  from  the  lower  or  middle  decks, 
because  her  ports  were  down.  Some  of  our  men  went  to 
Lieutenant  Ouilliam,  and  offered  to  swim  under  her  bows, 
and  get  up  there  ;  but  it  was  thought  unfit  to  hazard  brave 
lives  in  this  manner.   .  .  . 

Once,  amidst  his  sufferings.  Nelson  had  expressed  a  wish 
that  he  were  dead  ;  but  immediately  the  spirit  subdued  the 
pains  of  death,  and  he  wished  to  live  a  little  longer ;  doubt- 
less that  he  might  hear  the  completion  of  the  victory  which 
he  had  seen  so  gloriously  begun.  That  consolation,  that  joy, 
that  triumph,  was  afforded  him.  He  lived  to  know  that  the 
victory  was  decisive  ;  and  the  last  guns  which  were  fired  at  the 
flying  enemy  were  heard  a  minute  or  two  before  he  expired.  .  .  . 

The  death  of  Nelson  was  felt  in  England  as  something 
more  than  a  public  calamity :  men  started  at  the  intelligence, 
and  turned  pale  ;  as  if  they  had  heard  of  the  loss  of  a  dear 
friend.  An  object  of  our  admiration  and  affection,  of  our 
pride  and  of  our  hopes,  was  suddenly  taken  from  us  ;  and  it 
seemed  as  if  we  had  never,  till  then,  known  how  deeply  we 
loved  and  reverenced  him.  What  the  country  had  lost  in  its 
great  naval  hero  —  the  greatest  of  our  own  and  of  all  former 
times  —  was  scarcely  taken  into  the  account  of  grief.  So  per- 
fectly, indeed,  had  he  performed  his  part,  that  the  maritime 


YE  MARINERS  OF  ENGLAND  t^'j-j 

war,  after  the  battle  of  Trafalgar,  was  considered  at  an  end  : 
the  fleets  of  the  enemy  were  not  merely  defeated,  but  de- 
stroyed :  new  navies  must  be  built,  and  a  new  race  of  seamen 
reared  for  them,  before  the  possibility  of  their  invading  our 
shores  could  again  be  contemplated.  It  was  not,  therefore, 
from  any  selfish  reflection  upon  the  magnitude  of  our  loss 
that  we  mourned  lor  him  :  the  general  sorrow  was  of  a  higher 
character.  The  people  of  England  grieved  that  funeral  cere- 
monies, and  public  monuments,  and  posthumous  rewards, 
were  all  which  tlicy  could  now  bestow  upon  him  whom  the 
king,  the  legislature,  and  the  nation,  would  have  alike  de- 
lighted to  honour;  whom  every  tongue  would  have  blessed  ; 
whose  presence  in  every  village  through  which  he  might 
have  passed  would  have  wakened  the  church  bells,  have 
given  school-boys  a  holiday,  have  drawn  children  from  their 
sports  to  gaze  upon  him,  and  ""  old  men  from  the  chimney- 
corner,"  to  look  upon  Nelson  ere  they  died.  .  .  . 


Number  66 

YE  MARINERS   OF   ENGLAND 

A  Navai.  Ode 
Thomas  Campbell.   Poetical  Works,  pp.  98-99. 

I. 

Ye  mariners  of  I'2ngland  ! 

That  guard  our  native  seas  ; 

Whose  flag  has  braved,  a  thousand  years, 

The  battle  and  the  breeze  ! 

Your  glorious  standard  launch  again 


378  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

To  match  another  foe  ! 
And  sweep  through  the  deep, 
While  the  stormy  winds  do  blow ; 
While  the  battle  rages  loud  and  long, 
And  the  stormy  winds  do  blow. 


II. 


The  spirits  of  your  fathers 

Shall  start  from  every  wave  !  — 

For  the  deck  it  was  their  field  of  fame, 

And  Ocean  was  their  grave  : 

Where  Blake  and  mighty  Nelson  fell, 

Your  manly  hearts  shall  glow, 

As  ye  sweep  through  the  deep, 

While  the  stormy  winds  do  blow, 

While  the  battle  rages  loud  and  long, 

And  the  stormy  winds  do  blow. 


III. 

Britannia  needs  no  bulwarks, 

No  towers  along  the  steep  ; 

Her  march  is  o'er  the  mountain-waves. 

Her  home  is  on  the  deep. 

With  thunders  from  her  native  oak, 

She  quells  the  floods  below,  — 

As  they  roar  on  the  shore. 

When  the  stormy  winds  do  blow  : 

When  the  battle  rages  loud  and  long, 

And  the  stormy  winds  do  blow. 


THE  GREAT  REFORM   BILL  379 

IV. 

The  meteor  flag  of  England 

Shall  yet  terrific  burn  ; 

Till  danger's  tnuibled  night  depart, 

And  the  star  of  peace  return. 

Then,  then,  ye  ocean-warriors, 

Our  song  and  feast  shall  flow 

To  the  fame  of  your  name, 

When  the  storm  has  ceased  to  blow ; 

When  the  fiery  fight  is  heard  no  more, 

And  the  storm  has  ceased  to  blow. 


Number  6j 
THE  GREAT   REFORM   BILL 

Justin  McCarthy.     The  Stoiy  of  the  People  of  /'jighnni  hi  the  A'ineteetitk 
Century,  Vol.  I,  pp.  182-232, /rt'.fj/w. 

Lord  Grey  at  once  entrusted  to  Lord  John  Russell  the 
principal  conduct  of  the  Reform  Bill  through  the  House  of 
Commons ;  .  .  . 

On  the  1st  of  March,  183 1,  Lord  John  Russell  made  his 
opening  statement  of  the  Government's  proposals  on  the  sub- 
ject of  parliamentary  reform.  Nothing  could  be  more  clear, 
more  comprehensive,  and  in  its  way  more  eloquent  than 
Russell's  speech  on  that  great  occasion.  The  speech  is  even 
now  a  most  interesting  and  a  most  important  historical  doc- 
ument. There  is  not,  perhaps,  anywhere  to  be  found  in  our 
parliamentary  records  an  exposition  so  complete  and  yet  so 
concise  of  the  reforms  which  it  j^roposed  to  introduce  and 
of  the  anomalies  and  the  evils  which  it  proposed  to  abolish. 


380  READINGS  IN   ENGLISH  HISTORY 

..."  The  ancient  Constitution  of  our  countty,"  said  Lord 
John  Russell  in  his  opening  sentences,  "  declares  that  no  man 
should  be  taxed  for  the  support  of  the  state  who  has  not  con- 
sented by  himself  or  by  his  representative  to  the  imposition 
of  those  taxes."  This,  of  course,  is  the  keynote  of  the  whole 
principle  of  representative  government.   .   .   . 

.  .  .  Lord  John  Russell  showed  that  at  one  time  this  prin- 
ciple of  representation  did  exist  in  England ;  and  that  it  was 
provided  by  English  law  that  each  county  should  send  to  the 
House  of  Commons  two  knights  —  a  county  member  is  still 
called  in  formal  phrase  a  knight  of  the  shire  ;  each  city, 
two  burgesses  ;  and  each  borough,  two  members.  '"  Thus, 
no  doubt,"  said  Russell,  "at  that  early  period  the  House  of 
Commons  did  represent  the  people  of  England."  .  .  .  The 
whole  condition  of  the  country  had  meanwhile  been  chang- 
ing ;  some  of  the  boroughs  had  dwindled  away  until  they 
were  left  with  no  inhabitants  at  all,  but  the  owner  of  the  soil 
still  continued  to  return  himself  as  representative  of  the  little 
desert  to  the  House  of  Commons.  Great  towns  and  cities 
were  springing  up  everywhere  over  the  country,  but  these 
had  come  into  existence  too  late  to  have  the  benefit  of  the  old 
Constitution  ;  and  the  people  of  England  had  not  yet  exerted 
themselves  to  create  a  new  Constitution  suited  to  the  new  times. 

There  is  one  passage  in  Lord  John  Russell's  speech  which 
has  indeed  been  often  quoted  already,  but  which  cannot  be 
quoted  too  often,  cannot  be  read  too  often  by  students  of  Eng- 
lish history,  and  should  certainly  not  be  omitted  from  this 
page.  '"  A  stranger  who  was  told  that  this  country  is  unparal- 
leled in  wealth  and  industry,  and  more  civilised  and  more  en- 
lightened than  any  country  was  before  it,  that  it  is  a  country 
that  prides  itself  on  its  freedom,  and  that  once  in  every  seven 
years  it  elects  representatives  from  its  population  to  act  as  the 
guardians  and  preservers  of  that  freedom,  would  be  anxious 


THE  GRKAT   RKKORM    lULL  r>8l 


3"^ 


and  curious  to  see  how  that  representation  is  formed  and  how 
the  pcojilc  choose  their  representatives,  to  whose  fate  and 
guardianship  they  entrust  their  free  and  Hberal  Constitution. 
Such  a  person  would  be  very  much  astonished  if  he  were 
taken  to  a  ruined  mound,  and  told  that  that  mound  sent  two 
representatives  to  Parliament ;  if  he  were  taken  to  a  stone 
wall  and  told  that  three  niches  in  it  sent  two  representatives 
to  Parliament ;  if  he  were  taken  to  a  park  where  no  houses 
were  to  be  seen  and  told  that  that  park  sent  two  representa- 
tives to  Parliament.  But  if  he  were  told  all  this  and  were 
astonished  at  hearing  it,  he  would  be  still  more  astonished 
if  he  were  to  see  large  and  opulent  towns,  full  of  enterprise 
and  industry  and  intelligence,  containing  vast  magazines  of 
every  species  of  manufacture,  and  were  then  told  that  these 
towns  sent  no  representatives  to  Parliament."  Then  Lord 
John  went  a  step  farther,  but  in  a  different  direction,  for  the 
purpose  of  giving  his  intelligent  stranger  a  new  chance  of 
surprise.  ""Such  a  person,"  he  said,  "would  be  still  more 
astonished  if  he  were  taken  to  Liverpool,  where  there  is  a 
large  constituency,  and  told,  here  is  a  fine  specimen  of  a  pop- 
ular election.  He  would  see  bribery  employed  to  the  greatest 
extent  and  in  the  most  unblushing  manner ;  he  would  see 
every  voter  receiving  a  number  of  guineas  in  a  box  as  the 
price  of  his  corruption  ;  and  after  such  a  spectacle  he  would, 
no  doubt,  be  much  astonished  that  a  nation  whose  represent- 
atives arc  thus  chosen  could  perform  the  functions  of  legis- 
lation at  all,  and  enjoy  respect  in  any  degree.  The  confidence 
of  the  country,"  Lord  John  went  on  to  declare,  "  in  the  con- 
struction and  constitution  of  the  House  of  Commons  is  gone. 
It  would  be  easier  to  transfer  the  flourishing  manufactures 
of  Leeds  and  Manchester  to  Gatton  and  Old  Sarum  than 
to  re-establish  confidence  and  sympathy  between  this  I  louse 
and  those  whom  it  calls  its  constituents."   .  .  . 


382  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

Lord  John  Russell  went  on  to  explain  that  there  were 
three  principal  grievances  which  the  Government  proposed  to 
abolish.  The  first  was  the  nomination  of  members  by  indi^ 
vidual  patrons  ;  the  second  was  the  election  of  members  by 
close  corporations  ;  and  the  third  was  the  expense  of  elec- 
tions, including  the  vast  sums  squandered  on  bribery  and  cor- 
ruption. Now,  to  begin  with,  Lord  John  proposed  to  deprive 
all  the  really  extinguished  boroughs  of  any  right  of  nomina- 
tion whatever.  The  Gattons  and  Old  Sarums,  the  green 
mounds  and  the  park  walls,  were  no  longer  to  be  able  at  the 
command  of  the  lord  of  the  soil  to  send  up  a  so-called  repre- 
sentative to  the  House  of  Commons.  Further,  the  Govern- 
ment proposed  that  no  borough  which  had  less  than  one 
thousand  inhabitants  should  any  longer  be  allowed  to  send  a 
member  to  Parliament ;  and  that  no  borough  which  had  not 
more  than  four  thousand  inhabitants  should  be  allowed  to 
return  more  than  one  representative.  By  this  process  of  re- 
duction the  number  of  members  w'ould  become  less  than  it  was 
by  one  hundred  and  sixty-eight ;  and  Lord  John  Russell  ex- 
plained that  the  Government  did  not  mean  to  fill  up  the  whole 
of  these  vacancies,  believing,  as  they  did,  that  the  House  of 
Commons  had  too  many  members  already.  .  .   . 

Lord  John  Russell  went  on  to  say  that  the  necessity  for  some 
reduction  in  the  number  of  members  in  the  House  was  all  the 
more  necessary,  seeing  that  he  hoped  the  attendance  in  future 
would  be  that  of  really  working  members  ;  and  that  the  parlia- 
mentary roll  would  not  contain  the  names  of  a  great  number  of 
gentlemen  who,  when  once  they  had  obliged  themselves  or  their 
patron  by  accepting  an  election  to  Parliament,  took  care  to  live 
their  lives  pleasantly  abroad,  and  never  troubled  themselves 
to  attend  the  debates  and  divisions  in  the  House  of  Commons. 

Lord  John  Russell  announced  that  it  was  intended  to  give 
two  members  each  to  seven  large  towns  which  had  not  had 


THE  GREAT  REFORM   BILL  383 

previously  any  manner  of  representation.  It  is  something 
positively  amusing  now  to  read  the  names  of  the  seven  towns 
on  which  it  was  proposed  to  confer  the  right  of  represen- 
tation for  the  first  time.  These  towns  were  Manchester, 
Birmingham,  Leeds,  Greenwich,  Wolverhampton,  Sheffield, 
and  Sunderland.  Six  at  least  of  these  towns  may  be  said 
to  represent  —  might  even  then  be  said  to  represent  —  the 
growing  commercial  prosperity  and  energy  of  England,  as 
no  other  towns  could  possibly  do.  Twenty  other  towns  of 
smaller  size  were  to  be  represented  each  by  one  member. 
The  metropolis  itself  was  to  have  eight  new  members,  two 
members  each  being  given  to  the  Tower  Hamlets,  Holborn, 
Finsbur)',  and  Lambeth.  Each  of  these  metropolitan  con- 
stituencies is  now,  and  was  even  then,  a  big  town  in  itself. 

The  Government  proposed  to  sweep  away  nearly  all  the 
complex  franchises  —  the  "  fancy  franchises,"  as  they  would 
have  been  called  at  a  later  day  ;  franchises  conferred  in  many 
instances  by  close  corporations,  often  from  selfish  and  corrupt 
motives,  and  some  of  which  did  not  even  carry  with  them  as  a 
qualification  for  the  right  to  vote  the  condition  that  the  voter 
must  reside  in  the  borough  whose  representative  he  was  privi- 
leged to  join  in  electing.  Lord  John  Russell  proposed  as  far 
as  possible  to  simplify  the  voting  system,  and  to  make  it  at 
least  similar  in  principle  for  boroughs  and  for  counties.  In 
the  boroughs  a  resident  householder  paying  rates  for  a  house 
of  the  yearly  value  of  ;!£^io  and  upwards  was  to  be  entitled  to 
vote;  in  counties  a  copyholder  to  the  value  of  ;^io  a  year, 
who  was  also  qualified  to  serve  on  juries,  and  a  leaseholder 
for  not  less  than  twenty-one  years,  whose  annual  rent  was 
not  less  than  ^^50,  were  to  become  voters  at  once. 

Lord  John  Russell  attempted  to  deal  with  the  expenses  of 
elections  by  an  arrangement  that  the  poll  should  be  taken  in 
separate  districts,  so  that  no  voter  should  have  to  tra\-el  more 


384  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

than  fifteen  miles  to  record  his  vote  ;  and  also  by  limiting  the 
duration  of  the  poll  to  a  period  of  not  more  than  two  days.  .  .  . 
Lord  John  Russell  as  has  been  said,  merely  moved  for 
leave  to  bring  in  the  bill.  That  is  one  of  the  parliamentary 
forms  of  the  House  of  Commons  which  is  dispensed  with  in 
the  House  of  Lords,  Every  bill  in  both  Houses  must  have 
three  readings  ;  but  in  the  House  of  Lords  the  first  reading 
is  accorded  as  a  matter  of  right  to  the  member  who  introduces 
any  measure.  In  the  House  of  Commons  the  first  reading  is 
represented  by  a  motion  that  leave  be  given  to  bring  in  the 
bill ;  and  although  that  motion  is  not  much  opposed  or  much 
debated,  still  it  can  be  discussed  and  can  be  opposed. 

The  moment  Lord  John  Russell  had  closed  his  speech,  the 
Opposition  flamed  out  at  once.  Sir  Robert  Harry  Inglis  was 
the  first  man  to  rise  on  the  part  of  the  Tory  Opposition.  .  .  . 
Reform  Sir  Robert  Inglis  declared  to  be  only  revolution 
under  a  feigned  name.  A  measure  like  that  introduced  by 
Lord  John  Russell  would  root  out  all  the  benignant  influences 
of  education,  property,  and  rank.  Pass  such  a  measure  and 
there  would  be  no  more  gentlemen  and  no  more  scholars  in 
England,  and  everything  in  future  would  be  governed  there 
by  the  caprice  of  an  ignorant  and  howling  mob.  He  aban- 
doned himself  to  the  spirit  of  his  argument  so  far  as  to  deny 
in  the  most  solemn  manner  that  any  English  law  or  English 
custom  had  ever  connected  taxation  and  representation.  He 
went  even  further  than  this  ;  for  he  insisted  that  the  whole 
principle  of  representation  was  something  utterly  foreign  and 
unknown  to  the  British  Constitution.  He  scoffed  at  the  idea 
that  a  place  merely  because  it  happened  to  be  a  large  and 
prosperous  town,  with  a  great  population,  was  any  the  better 
entitled  to  be  represented  in  Parliament  than  the  smallest 
country  village  ;  and  he  maintained  that  the  principle  of  rep- 
resentation was  that  the  Sovereign  should  invite  whomsoever 


THE  GREAT  REFORM   BILL  3S5 

he  pleased  to  represent  any  place,  peopled  or  unpeopled,  which 
the  Sovereign  graciously  chose  to  designate  ;  and  that  the  man 
designated  should  thereupon  have  the  right  of  going  to  Parlia- 
ment, to  confer  with  the  Sovereign  on  the  affairs  of  the  country'. 
He  went  even  further  than  this  ;  he  exceeded  even  the  limits 
of  anything  like  artistic  caricature  ;  for  he  openly  defended  and 
glorified  the  purchase  of  small  boroughs,  and  triumphantly 
pointed  out,  that  if  such  boroughs  were  not  to  be  bought  and 
sold  then  the  noblemen  of  the  country-,  the  persons  naturally 
fitted  to  govern  the  country,  would  have  no  representation 
whatever  in  the  House  of  Commons.  This  was,  perhaps,  the 
extreme  high-water  mark  of  the  most  antique  Tor}'ism.   .   .   . 

The  debate  on  the  first  reading  was  carried  on  for  seven 
nights.  .   .   . 

On  the  2ist  of  March,  183 1,  Lord  John  Russell  moved 
the  second  reading  of  the  English  Reform  Bill.  The  second 
reading  was  strongly  resisted,  and  the  Tory  speakers  who 
had  argued  against  the  first  reading,  declaimed  their  argu- 
ments all  over  again.  Three  hundred  and  two  members  voted 
for  the  second  reading,  and  three  hundred  and  one  against  it. 
The  second  reading,  therefore,  embodying  the  whole  purpose 
of  the  bill,  was  carried  only  by  a  majority  of  one.  The  w'ildest 
exultation  broke  out  along  the  ranks  of  Opposition.  Every 
Tory  in  the  House  felt  satisfied  that  a  bill  which  passed  its 
second  reading  in  the  House  of  Commons  by  only  a  majority 
of  one  would  not  have  the  slightest  chance  of  dragging  itself 
through  committee  without  some  mutilation  of  its  principal 
clauses  which  would  leave  it  an  object  of  pit}'  to  its  friends 
and  of  ridicule  to  its  enemies.   .   .  . 

Lord  Grey  and  his  colleagues  were  not  in  the  least  dis- 
mayed. They  determined  at  once  to  dissolve  Parliament  and 
appeal  to  the  country  by  a  general  election,  for  a  reversal  of 
the  decision  given  by  the  majority  of  the  House  of  Commons. 


386  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

The  first  trouble  the  Ministr)^  had  was  with  the  Patriot  King. 
Wilham  IV.  seemed  to  think  it  a  monstrous  thing  that  he 
should  be  asked  to  dissolve  a  Parliament  which  had  just 
been  gathered  together,  after  the  cost  and  turmoil  of  a  gen- 
eral election,  only  to  put  the  country  to  the  cost  and  turmoil 
of  another  general  election  ;  and  all  for  the  sake  of  carrying 
a  Reform  Bill,  about  which  the  Sovereign  himself  felt  no 
manner  of  personal  enthusiasm.   .   .   , 

However,  .  .  .  the  King  showed  his  good  sense  by  allow- 
ing himself  to  be  prevailed  upon,  and  he  consented  to  go 
down  to  the  House  of  Lords  and  declare  the  dissolution  of 
the  Parliament.   .   .   . 

When  the  election  began,  the  contest  was  kept  up  on  both 
sides  with  an  utter  prodigality  of  expense.  There  was  not 
much  to  be  said  in  favour  of  one  side  against  the  other,  so 
far  as  bribery  and  corruption  were  concerned.  Bribery  and 
corruption  ran  their  unblushing  way  among  Liberals  and 
Tories,  throughout  nearly  all  the  constituencies.  As  the  re- 
sults began  to  be  known,  it  was  found  that  nearly  all  the  cities 
and  great  towns  were  on  the  side  of  Lord  Grey  and  Lord 
John  Russell.  One  of  the  most  conspicuous  opponents  of 
the  Reform  Bill  was  turned  out  of  the  important  town  of 
Liverpool  by  an  immense  majority  of  votes.  Many  of  the 
counties  had  hkewise  "gone  solid"  for  reform,  to  use  a 
phrase  familiar  in  modern  politics.  There  was  no  mistaking 
the  meaning  of  all  this  ;  the  feeling  of  the  country  was  dis- 
tinctly in  favour  of  reform.  The  new  Parliament  was  opened 
on  June  21st  by  William  IV.  in  person  ;  and  as  the  King  went 
in  state  to  the  House  of  Lords  he  was  received  with  immense 
enthusiasm  by  the  crowds  who  thronged  the  streets.  .   .   . 

On  the  24th  of  June,  Lord  John  Russell  introduced  a 
second  Reform  Bill  which  might  be  called  just  the  same  in 
principle  and  in  substance  as  that  which  he  had  brought  in 


TTIE  GREAT  REFORM   P.ITJ.  387 

on  the  former  occasion.  The  second  reading  was  moved  for 
on  the  4th  of  July  ;  and  after  a  debate  of  three  nights  a  divi- 
sion was  taken,  and  the  second  reading  was  carried  by  three 
hundred  and  sixty-seven  votes  for,  and  two  hundred  and 
thirty-one  against  —  a  majority  of  one  hundred  and  thirty-six 
in  favour  of  the  ])rinciple  of  the  measure.   .   .   . 

.  .  .  Amendments  were  still  proposed,  and  debates  still  went 
on,  and  divisions  were  taken  ;  but  the  Tories  began  to  see  at 
last  that  the  Government  were  thoroughly  in  earnest,  and  that 
the  country  was  behind  Lord  Grey  and  Lord  John  Russell. 
The  bill  was  carried  through  its  various  stages,  and  the  last 
division  on  the  motion,  that  the  bill  do  now  pass,  showed 
three  hundred  and  forty-five  votes  for  the  reform  measure, 
and  only  two  hundred  and  thirty-nine  against  it  —  a  majority 
of  one  hundred  and  six  in  favour  of  the  bill. 

Then  the  hopes  and  hearts  of  all  the  anti-reformers  turned 
to  the  House  of  Lords.  The  House  of  Lords  had  then,  as 
now,  a  large  conservative  majority,  and  had,  therefore,  the 
power  of  upsetting  the  work  of  the  Commons,  and  rejecting 
the  Reform  l^ill  altogether.  There  are  two  checks  on  the 
unlimited  exercise  of  such  a  power  by  the  House  of  Lords  ; 
the  one  constitutional,  and  the  other  political  and  moral.  The 
constitutional  check  is  found  in  the  fact  that  the  Sovereign 
has  always  the  right,  on  the  advice  of  his  Ministers,  to  create 
as  many  new  peers  as  he  thinks  fit.  If,  therefore,  there  should 
be  in  the  House  of  Lords  a  known  majority  of  peers,  say  one 
hundred  in  number,  against  reform,  the  King  would  only  have 
to  create  one  hundred  and  fifty  new  peers  from  the  Liberal 
ranks  in  time  to  carry  the  reform  measure  through  all  its 
stages.  Of  course,  this  is  what  might  be  called  a  desperate 
remedy,  and  could  only  be  tried  as  a  last  resource. ^  .   .   . 

1  By  the  veto  bill  of  191 1  a  further  constitutional  check  has  been  placed  on  the 
power  of  the  House  of  Lords.  Sec  page  464,  note  2. 


o 


88  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 


The  other  check  on  the  power  of  the  House  of  Lords  was 
that  created  b}-  the  strength  of  popular  feeUng  out-of-doors. 
If  the  majority  of  the  constituencies  should  prove  themselves 
so  determined  on  reform  that  the  prolonged  resistance  of 
the  peers  might  risk  a  revolution,  then  it  was  almost  certain 
that  the  House  of  Lords  would  give  way  and  yield  to  the 
popular  will.   .  .   . 

...  On  October  3rd,  Lord  Grey  moved  the  second  reading 
of  the  Reform  Bill ;  .  .  .  The  division  was  taken  on  the  morn- 
ing of  October  8th  ;  and  it  was  announced  that  the  second 
reading  was  defeated  by  a  majority  of  forty-one.  The  House 
of  Commons  had  spent  a  whole  session  in  vain  over  the 
passing  of  the  Reform  Bill ;  the  House  of  Lords  undid  the 
work  in  a  few  days.   .   .  . 

The  news  of  the  adverse  division  in  the  House  of  Lords 
created  a  passionate  sensation  all  over  the  country.  Great 
meetings  were  held  in  every  city  and  town  ;  in  many  places 
the  shops  were  closed  and  mourning  bells  were  pealed  from 
some  of  the  churches.  ...  In  the  streets  from  Charing 
Cross  to  the  Houses  of  Parliament  vast  crowds  assembled 
every  evening,  cheering  the  leaders  of  the  reform  movement, 
and  hissing  and  cursing  the  peers  or  commoners  who  had 
opposed  the  bill. 

Clamorous  proposals  for  the  abolition  of  the  House  of 
Lords  became  popular  on  every  Radical  platform  all  over 
the  country ;  serious  riots  took  place  at  Derby,  at  Notting- 
ham, and  at  Bristol  ;  the  castles  and  country  houses  of  Tory 
noblemen  and  squires  were  attacked,  seriously  damaged,  and 
in  some  instances  set  on  fire.   .  .   . 

On  the  1 2th  of  December,  Lord  John  Russell  moved  in 
the  House  of  Commons  for  leave  to  bring  in  his  third  Reform 
Bill.  The  bill  was  in  all  important  details,  and  of  course  in 
all  its  principles,  much  the  same  as  the  first  and  second  bills. 


Till';  CRKAT   REFORM    J51LL  389 

.  .  .  The  bill  did  not  get  through  committee  until  March  1 4th ; 
and  it  passed  its  third  reading  by  a  majority  of  one  hundred 
and  sixteen,  on  the  23rd  of  the  month.  It  was  sent  up  to 
the  House  of  Lords  at  once.   .   .   . 

The  bill  came  on  for  second  reading  in  the  House  of  Lords 
on  the  9th  of  April,  and  the  Uuke  of  Wellington  spoke  out  as 
strongly  against  the  measure  as  he  had  spoken  against  the 
first  Reform  l^ill  brought  in  by  the  (iovernment.  .  .  .  Lord 
Lyndhurst  proposed  an  amendment,  which  the  Government 
properly  declared  to  be  hostile  to  the  conduct  of  the  bill  ;  .  .  . 
and  his  motion  was  carried  by  a  majority  of  thirty-five.  Lord 
Grey  at  once  addressed  himself  to  the  King,  and  as  the 
King  still  hesitated  about  granting  him  the  power  to  make 
new  peers.  Lord  Grey  instantly  tendered  his  resignation.  The 
resignation  was  accepted  ;  indeed,  there  was  nothing  to  be 
done  but  to  accept  it,  or  to  give  in  to  Lord  Grey's  demands. 
.  .  .  Lord  Grey  and  his  colleagues  went  out  of  office  ;  and 
the  King  was  left,  metaphorically,  face  to  face  with  the 
country,  face  to  face  with  the  possibility  of  revolution.  The 
King  sent  for  Lord  Lyndhurst,  and  pathetically,  perplexedly, 
besought  for  help  and  counsel.  Lord  Lyndhurst  had  only 
one  piece  of  advice  to  give  .  .  .  and  that  was  to  send  for  the 
Duke  of  Wellington.  The  Duke  was  sent  for  ;  and  the  King 
implored  him  to  undertake  the  formation  and  the  leadership 
of  a  new  Government. 

The  Duke  of  Wellington  had  encountered  many  terrible 
risks  and  difficulties  in  his  time;  but  he  had  never  encoun- 
tered any  risk  or  any  difficulty  when  there  was  not  the  slightest 
chance  of  any  good  purpose  whatever  being  served  by  the 
attempt.  He  told  the  King  bluntly  that  he  did  not  believe 
it  would  be  possible  for  him  to  get  together  any  Government 
which  could  face  the  crisis;  and  in  order  not  to  be  wanting 
in  advice  of  some  kind,  he  recommended  the  King  to  send 


390  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

for  Sir  Robert  Peel,  and  tr)'  what  Peel  could  do.  Then,  and 
for  ever  after,  while  Peel's  life  lasted,  the  Duke  of  Wel- 
lington looked  up  to  Peel  with  a  genuine  and  a  generous 
admiration  as  the  man  who  could  do  anything,  if  anything 
was  possible  to  be  done.  So  the  King  sent  for  Peel ;  but 
Peel  saw  that  this  was  a  case  in  which  he  could  do  nothing. 

Peel  was  one  of  the  most  rising  men  of  the  time.  He 
must  have  known  that  he  had  a  great  career  before  him  ;  and 
he  was  quite  unselfish  and  patriotic  enough  to  think  little  of 
risking  that  career,  if  only  thereby  something  could  be  done 
to  serve  the  Sovereign  and  the  State.  But  he  was  an  intensely 
practical  man,  and  he  did  not  see  that  either  Sovereign  or 
State  could  be  served  by  his  simply  dashing  his  head  against 
a  stone  wall.  So  he  told  the  King  that  it  would  be  utterly 
impossible  for  him  to  keep  together  a  Ministiy  against  the 
House  of  Commons  and  against  the  country,  and  he  declined 
to  attempt  the  impossible  task.  Then  the  King  in  despair 
sent  for  the  Duke  of  Wellington  again  and  made  it  some- 
thing like  a  point  of  duty  and  of  loyalty  with  him  to  help  the 
Sovereign  out  of  his  dilemma.  The  Duke,  who  never  was, 
and  never  could  be,  a  politician,  was  willing  after  such  an 
appeal  to  dash  his  head  against  the  stone  wall,  and  so  he  did 
actually  attempt  to  get  together  an  Administration  composed 
of  men  who  would  stand  up  with  him  as  opponents  of  reform, 
the  House  of  Commons,  and  the  country.  The  attempt 
utterly  failed.  Indeed,  to  say  that  it  failed  is  to  give  an  in- 
adequate idea  of  its  futility.  No  sooner  was  it  made  than  it 
had  to  be  abandoned.  There  were  no  men  outside  Bedlam 
who  would  undertake  to  co-operate  in  such  a  task. 

What  was  the  poor  bewildered  King  to  do .?  He  could  think 
of  nothing,  and  nothing  could  be  suggested  to  him  but  to  send 
for  Lord  Grey  again,  and  request  Lord  Grey  to  reconstruct 
his  Ministry  and  go  on  with  the  Reform  Bill.  .  .  . 


THE  GREAT  REEORM   BILL  39 1 

Nothing  was  to  be  done  unless  William  would  give  his 
consent  to  the  creation  of  new  peers.  Lord  Brougham,  who 
accompanied  Lord  Grey  in  one  momentous  interview  with 
the  Sovereign,  went  so  far  as  to  insist  that  the  consent  must 
even  be  given  in  writing.  The  poor  King  had  no  other  course 
open  to  him  than  to  yield  to  stern  necessity.  He  had  argued 
with  the  inexorable  long  enough  ;  and  he  was  thoroughly 
tired  of  the  futile  argument.  He  gave  his  consent,  and  he 
gave  it  even  in  writing.  "  The  King  grants  permission  to 
Lord  Grey  and  to  his  Chancellor,  Lord  Brougham,  to  create 
such  a  number  of  peers  as  will  insure  the  passing  of  the 
Reform  Bill,"  were  the  words  of  the  consent  written  on 
the  paper  which  the  King,  at  last  submissive,  handed  to 
the  rigorous  and  uncourtly  Lord  Brougham. 

Of  course,  the  moment  the  consent  was  given  the  crisis 
was  all  over.  It  is  needless  to  say  that  the  new  peers  were 
never  created.  It  was  enough  for  the  Opposition  to  know  that 
the  new  peers  would  be  created  if  necessary,  and  there  was 
an  end  of  their  resistance  at  once.  Thcv  did  not  want  the 
Reform  Bill,  and  they  did  not  want  the  new  peers  ;  but,  above 
all  things,  they  did  not  want  the  Reform  Bill  and  the  new 
peers  together.  The  Duke  of  Wellington  and  some  other  peers 
withdrew  from  the  House  of  Lords  altogether  while  the  bill 
was  running  its  now  short  and  summary  course.  They  would 
not  look  upon  the  consummation  of  a  policy  which  it  was 
not  possible  for  them  any  longer  to  retard.  .  .  .  On  the 
4th  of  June  the  bill  passed  through  the  House  of  Lords  ; 
and  a  few  days  after,  the  poor  Patriot  King  had  given  it 
his  Royal  Assent. 

Let  us  see  now  what  were  the  two  great  precedents,  the 
two  great  principles,  which  were  established  by  the  passing 
of  the  Reform  Bill,  and  by  the  manner  in  which  it  passed 
into  law.    We  have  already  told  our  readers  what  the  bill  itself 


392  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

did  for  the  country ;  we  have  described  the  general  reforms 
which  it  created  ;  and  we  have  shown  in  what  measure  it  was 
seriously  defective,  and  why  it  became  necessary  that  many 
further  expansions  of  its  scope  should  be  brought  about. 
But  the  great  principles  accomplished  by  the  passing  of  the 
Reform  Bill  are  not  to  be  found  embodied  in  the  contents 
of  the  bill  itself. 

The  most  important  constitutional  principles  established 
for  the  first  time,  and  we  trust  for  all  time,  by  the  triumph  of 
Lord  Grey  and  Lord  John  Russell  are  two  in  number.  The 
first  is,  that  the  House  of  Lords  must  never  carry  resistance 
to  any  measure  coming  from  the  House  of  Commons,  that  is, 
from  the  chamber  which  represents  the  country,  beyond  the 
point  at  which  it  becomes  evident  that  the  House  of  Commons 
is  in  earnest,  and  that  the  country  is  behind  it.  It  is  now 
settled  that  the  House  of  Lords  shall  have  no  greater  power 
of  resistance  to  a  popular  measure  than  that  which,  in  a  dif- 
ferent form,  is  given  to  the  President  of  the  United  States, 
the  power  to  delay  its  passing  until  the  House  of  Commons 
shall  have  had  full  time  to  reconsider  its  decision  and  say,  on 
that  reconsideration,  whether  it  is  of  the  same  mind  as  before, 
or  not.  .  .  .  The  second  great  principle  which  the  passing  of 
the  Reform  Bill  established  is,  that  the  Sovereign  of  Eng- 
land must  give  way  to  the  advice  of  his  Ministers  on  any 
question  of  vital  import  to  the  State,  and  that  the  personal 
authority  of  the  Monarch  is  no  longer  to  decide  the  course  of 
the  Government.  Never,  since  that  time,  has  the  personal 
will  of  the  Sovereign  been  exercised  as  a  decisive  force  to 
contradict  and  counteract  the  resolve  of  the  House  of  Com- 
mons. The  country  is  happy,  indeed,  which  has  seen  so 
beneficent  a  change  accomplished,  and  to  all  appearance 
safely  accomplished  for  ever,  without  the  need  of  recourse 
to  revolution. 


GLADSTONE  AND    DISRAELI  393 

Number  6S 
GLADSTONE  AND  DISRAELI 

Justin  McCarthy.   Life  of  Gladstone,  pp.  156-167. 

In  1852  began  the  long  Parliamentary  duel  between  Glad- 
stone and  Disraeli,  which  ended  only  when,  at  the  close  of 
the  session  of  1876,  Mr.  Disraeli  left  the  House  of  Commons 
and  took  his  place,  as  he  had  always  meant  to  do  sooner  or 
later,  in  the  House  of  Lords.  The  debate  was  on  Mr.  Dis- 
raeli's budget,  and  it  ended  in  the  defeat  of  the  Tory  Govern- 
ment. Mr.  Disraeli  never,  before  or  after,  spoke  with  greater 
power  and  sarcasm  and  bitterness  and  passion  than  in  his 
final  speech  in  that  debate.  It  was  about  two  o'clock  in  the 
morning  when  Mr.  Gladstone  sprang  up  to  reply  to  him. 
"'  Gladstone  has  got  his  work  cut  out  for  him,"  was  the  com- 
ment of  one  of  the  listeners  when  Mr.  Gladstone  rose  to  his 
feet.  He  had  his  work  cut  out  for  him,  but  he  was  equal  to 
the  work,  and  he  soon  made  it  quite  clear  that  he  was  going 
to  do  it.  Many  members  of  the  House  and  listeners  in  the 
strangers'  galleries  thought  it  hardly  possible  that,  at  that 
hour  of  the  morning,  and  after  such  a  speech  as  Disraeli's, 
any  further  impression  could  be  made  even  by  Mr.  Gladstone. 
But  before  he  had  got  far  into  his  speech  every  one  felt 
that  Gladstone  was  making  a  greater  impression  than  even 
Disraeli  had  produced.  It  has  to  be  borne  in  mind  also  that 
Gladstone's  speech  was  necessarily  unprepared,  for  he  replied 
point  by  point,  and  almost  sentence  by  sentence,  to  the  speech 
of  Mr.  Disraeli.  It  seems  to  me  that  from  that  moment 
Mr.  Gladstone's  position  in  the  House  of  Commons  was 
completely  established. 


394  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

Then,  as  I  have  said,  began  the  long  rivalry  of  these  two 
great  Parliamentary  athletes.  In  every  important  debate  the 
one  man  answered  the  other.  Disraeli  followed  Gladstone, 
or  Gladstone  followed  Disraeli.  It  was  not  unlike  the  rivalry 
between  Fox  and  Pitt,  for  it  was  a  rivalry  of  temperament  and 
character  as  well  as  of  public  position  and  of  political  prin- 
ciple. Gladstone  and  Disraeli  seemed  formed  by  nature  to  be 
antagonists.  In  character,  in  temper,  in  tastes,  and  in  style 
of  speaking  the  men  were  utterly  unlike  each  other.  One  of 
Gladstone's  defects  was  his  tendency  to  take  everything  too 
seriously.  One  of  Disraeli's  defects  was  his  tendency  to  take 
nothing  seriously.  Disraeli  was  strongest  in  reply  when  the 
reply  had  to  consist  only  of  sarcasm.  He  had  a  marvellous 
gift  of  phrase-making.  He  could  impale  a  whole  policy  with 
an  epithet.  He  could  dazzle  the  House  of  Commons  with  a 
paradox.  He  could  throw  ridicule  on  a  political  party  by  two 
or  three  happy  and  reckless  adjectives.  He  described  one  of 
Cobden's  free-trade  meetings  in  some  country  place  as  an 
assembly  made  up  of  "  a  grotesque  and  Hudibrastic  crew."  It 
is  not  likely  that  one  of  Cobden's  meetings  was  more  grotesque 
or  Hudibrastic  than  any  other  public  meeting  anywhere.  But 
that  did  not  concern  the  House  of  Commons;  the  descrip- 
tion was  humorous  and  effective  ;  it  made  people  laugh,  and 
the  adjective  stuck.  Disraeli  was  never  happy  in  statement. 
When  he  had  to  explain  a  policy,  financial  or  other,  he 
might  really  be  regarded  as  a  very  dull  speaker.  Gladstone 
was  especially  brilliant  in  statement.  He  could  give  to  an 
exposition  of  figures  the  fascination  of  a  romance  or  a  poem. 
Gladstone  never  could  be,  under  any  possible  conditions,  a 
dull  speaker.  He  was  no  equal  of  Disraeli's  in  the  gift  of 
sarcasm  and  what  Disraeli  himself  called  "  flouts  and  jeers." 
But  in  a  reply  he  swept  his  antagonist  before  him  with  his 
marvellous  eloquence,  compounded  of  reason  and  passion. 


GLADSTONE  AND  DISRAELI 


395 


I  heard  nearly  all  the  great  speeches  made  by  both  the 
men  in  that  Parliamentary  duel  which  lasted  for  so  many 
years.  My  own  observation  and  judgment  gave  the  superior- 
ity to  Mr.  (Gladstone  all  through,  but  I  quite  admit  that  Dis- 
raeli stood  up  well  to  his  great  opponent,  and  that  it  was  not 
always  easy  to  award  the  prize  of  victor)'.  The  two  men's 
voices  were  curiously  unlike.  Disraeli  had  a  deep,  low,  power- 
ful voice,  heard  everywhere  throughout  the  House,  but  having 
little  variety  or  music  in  it.  Gladstone's  voice  was  tuned  to  a 
higher  note,  was  penetrating,  resonant,  liquid,  and  full  of  an 
exquisite  modulation  and  music  which  gave  new  shades  of 
meaning  to  every  emphasized  word.  The  ways  of  the  men 
were  in  almost  every  respect  curiously  unlike.  Gladstone  was 
always  eager  for  conversation.  He  loved  to  talk  to  anybody 
about  anything.  Disraeli,  even  among  his  most  intimate 
friends,  was  given  to  frequent  fits  of  absolute  and  apparently 
gloomy  silence.  Gladstone,  after  his  earlier  Parliamentary 
days,  became  almost  entirely  indifferent  to  dress.  Disraeli 
always  turned  out  in  the  newest  fashion,  and  down  to  his 
latest  years  went  in  the  get-up  of  a  young  man  about  town. 
Not  less  different  were  the  characters  and  temperaments  of 
the  two  men.  Gladstone  changed  his  political  opinions  many 
times  during  his  long  Parliamentary  career.  But  he  changed 
his  opinions  only  in  deference  to  the  force  of  a  growing  con- 
viction, and  to  the  recognition  of  facts  and  conditions  which 
he  could  no  longer  conscientiously  dispute.  Nobody  probably 
ever  knew  what  Mr.  Disraeli's  real  opinions  were  upon  any 
political  question,  or  whether  he  had  any  real  opinions  at  all. 
Gladstone  began  as  a  Tor\',  and  gradually  became  changed 
into  a  Radical.  Disraeli  began  as  an  extreme  Radical  under 
the  patronage  of  Daniel  O'Connell,  and  changed  into  a 
Tory.  But  e\-eiybody  knew  that  (iladstone  was  at  first  a 
sincere  Tory,  and  at  last  a  sincere  Radical.    Nobody  knew, 


396  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH   HISTORY 

or,  indeed,  cared,  whether  Disraeli  ever  was  either  a  sincere 
Radical  or  a  sincere  Tory.  It  is  not,  perhaps,  an  unreasonable 
thing  to  assume  that  Disraeli  soon  began  to  feel  that  there 
was  no  opening  for  him  on  the  Liberal  benches  of  the  House 
of  Commons.  He  was  determined  to  get  on.  He  knew  that 
he  had  the  capacity  for  success.  He  was  not  in  the  least 
abashed  by  session  after  session  of  absolute  failure  in  Parlia- 
ment, but  he  probably  began  to  see  that  he  must  choose  his 
ground.  On  the  Liberal  side  were  men  like  Palmerston, 
Lord  John  Russell,  Gladstone,  Cobden,  and  Bright.  On  the 
Tory  side  there  were  respectable  country  gentlemen.  Since 
the  removal  of  Lord  Stanley  to  the  Upper  House  there 
was  not  a  single  man  on  the  Tory  benches  who  could  for  a 
moment  be  compared,  as  regards  eloquence  and  intellect, 
with  Disraeli.  Given  a  perfectly  open  mind,  it  is  not  diffi- 
cult to  see  how  an  ambitious  man  would  make  his  choice. 
The  choice  was  made  accordingly,  and  Mr.  Disraeli  soon 
became  the  only  possible  leader  of  the  Tory  party  in  the 
House   of  Commons.   .   .  . 

Gladstone  was  needed  to  bring  out  all  that  was  keenest 
and  brightest  in  the  Parliamentary  eloquence  of  Disraeli. 
Gladstone,  on  the  other  hand,  would  have  been  literally 
thrown  away  on  any  Tor)'  antagonist  beneath  the  level  of 
Disraeli.  Never  since  Disraeli  left  the  House  of  Commons 
has  Gladstone  found  a  Tory  antagonist  worth  his  crossing 
swords  with.  Among  other  differences  between  the  two  men 
were  differences  in  education.  Disraeli  never  had  anything 
like  the  classical  training  of  Gladstone.  The  mind  of  Glad- 
stone was  steeped  in  the  glorious  literature  of  Greece  and  of 
Rome,  about  which  Disraeli  knew  little  or  nothing.  Disraeli 
knew  but  little  Latin  or  Greek ;  he  could  not  speak  French 
fluently  or  correctly.  .  .  .  When  the  Congress  of  Berlin  sat 
in  1878,  and  was  presided  over  by  Prince  Bismarck,  the  great 


GLADSTONE  AND   DISRAELI  397 

Prussian  statesman  opened  and  conducted  the  business  in 
English.  Uisraeh,  accompanied  by  Lord  SaUsbury,  repre- 
sented England  at  the  Congress,  and  it  was  at  first  supposed 
that  Bismarck  spoke  English  simply  as  a  mark  of  compliment 
to  England.  But  Bismarck  kindly  spoke  English  because  it 
had  been  made  known  to  him  that  Disraeli  was  not  at  home 
in  French. 

It  must  be  admitted,  however,  that  all  this  tells  to  a  certain 
extent  in  Disraeli's  favor.  Among  the  contrasts  between  the 
lives  and  ways  of  the  two  great  rivals  must  be  noticed  the 
contrast  between  the  conditions  under  which  they  started  into 
public  life.  Everything  that  care,  culture,  and  money  could 
do  had  been  done  for  Gladstone.  His  father  had  started  him 
in  public  life  with  an  ample  fortune.  Disraeli  was  the  son  of 
a  very  clever  and  distinguished  literary  man,  who  was  success- 
ful enough  as  a  sort  of  genre  artist  with  the  pen,  but  who 
could  not  give  his  son  much  of  a  launch  in  life.  Disraeli  got 
but  a  very  scrambling  education,  and  was  for  some  time  set 
to  work  in  a  lawyer's  office.  His  early  extravagances  got  him 
into  much  trouble  at  the  outset  of  his  career.  He  had  luxuri- 
ous Oriental  tastes  and  fancies,  and,  besides,  he  was  deter- 
mined to  get  into  the  House  of  Commons  at  any  cost,  and 
the  expenses  of  election  in  those  days  would  seem  almost 
incredible  to  our  more  modest  times.  It  was  no  very  uncom- 
mon thing  for  a  man  to  spend  100,000  pounds  in  contesting 
a  county.  Disraeli  at  first  contested  only  boroughs,  but  even 
a  borough  contest  meant  huge  expenditure.  He  had  there- 
fore nothing  like  the  secure  and  unharassed  entrance  into 
politics  which  was  the  good  fortune  of  his  great  rival.  An- 
other difference  between  the  two  men  was  found  in  their 
attitudes  towards  general  culture.  Gladstone  had  a  positive 
passion  for  studying  everything,  for  knowing  something  about 
ever)'thing.    He  was  unwilling  to  let  any  subject  elude  his 


398  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

grasp.  He  had  tastes  the  most  varied  and  all  but  universal. 
He  loved  pictures  and  statues  and  architecture  and  old  china 
and  medals  and  bric-a-brac  of  every  kind,  and  he  had  made 
himself  acquainted  with  the  history  of  all  these  subjects. 
There  was  almost  nothing  about  which  he  could  not  talk 
with  fluency  and  with  the  keenest  interest.  He  had  a  thirst 
for  information,  and  it  was  a  pleasure  to  him  to  get  out  of 
every  man  all  that  the  man  could  tell  him  about  his  own  par- 
ticular subject.  Although  a  great  and  indeed  a  tremendous 
talker,  Gladstone  was  not  one  of  the  men  who  insist  upon 
having  all  the  talk  to  themselves.  His  thirst  for  information 
would  in  any  case  have  prevented  him  from  being  a  talker  only. 
He  knew  that  every  man  and  woman  he  met  had  something 
to  tell  him,  and  he  gave  every  one  ample  opportunity. 

Disraeli  possessed  no  such  ubiquitous  tastes  and  no  such 
varied  knowledge.  He  had  travelled  more  than  Gladstone 
ever  travelled,  but  he  brought  back  little  from  his  wanderings. 
His  life,  indeed,  ran  in  a  narrow  groove.  Political  ambition 
was  his  idol,  and  he  lived  in  its  worship.  A  writer  of  brilliant 
novels,  he  could  hardly  be  called  in  the  highest  sense  a  liter- 
ary man.  His  novels  were  undoubtedly  brilliant,  and  brought 
him  in  every  way  a  great  success.  He  was  probably  the  only 
English  author  who  ever  compelled  his  English  public  to 
read  political  novels.  But  he  had  no  particular  affection  for 
literature  or  for  literary  men.  .  .  .  Disraeli  thoroughly  en- 
joyed the  life  of  the  House  of  Commons  for  its  own  sake. 
Gladstone  probably  enjoyed  it  most  for  the  opportunities  which 
it  gave  him  of  asserting  his  principles  and  pushing  forward 
his  reforms.  Of  both  men  it  is  only  fair  to  say  that  during 
their  long  political  struggle  not  one  breath  of  scandal  touched 
their  public  or  private  life.  On  one  or  two  occasions  when  an 
accusation  was  made  against  either  man  of  having  shown  a 
spirit  of  favoritism  in  some  public  appointment,  the  charge 


THE  INDI'STRIAL   REVOLUTION  399 

was  easily  disproved,  and  indeed  would  not  have  been  seri- 
ously believed  in  by  many  people  in  any  case.  Disraeli  was 
once,  while  in  office,  charged  with  having  given  a  certain 
small  appointment  to  a  political  supporter.  He  was  able  to 
prove  at  once,  first  that  the  recipient  of  the  place  was  the 
man  best  ([ualified  for  its  work,  and,  next,  that  the  recipient 
of  the  place  had  been  a  steady  political  opponent  of  Disraeli 
and  the  Tory  party.  It  is  satisfactory  to  know  that  in  the 
higher  walks  of  English  political  life  the  atmosphere  has  for 
many  years  been  pure  and  untainted.  The  days  of  Boling- 
broke  and  Walpole  and  the  Godolphins  had  long  passed 
away,  and  even  the  hard-drinking,  reckless,  gambling  temper 
of  the  times  of  Fox  and  Pitt  was  totally  unknown  to  the 
principal  associates  of  Disraeli  and  Gladstone.  In  every 
way,  therefore,  these  two  rivals  were  worthy  of  the  rivalry. 


Nunibcj'-  6g 
THE  INDUSTRIAL  REVOLUTION 

Robinson  and  Beard.  Development  of  Modem  Europe,  Vol.  II,  pp.  31-49. 

...  In  the  time  of  Louis  XIV,  when  inventors  were 
already  becoming  somewhat  numerous,  especially  in  England, 
the  people  of  western  Europe  for  the  most  part  continued  to 
till  their  fields,  weave  their  cloth,  and  saw  and  plane  their 
boards  by  hand,  much  as  the  ancient  Egyptians  had  done. 
Merchandise  was  still  transported  in  slow,  lumbering  carts, 
and  letters  were  as  long  in  passing  from  London  to  Rome 
as  in  the  reign  of  Constantine.  Could  a  peasant,  a  smith,  or  a 
weaver  of  the  age  of  Caesar  Augustus  have  visited  France  or 
England  eighteen  hundred  years  later,  he  would  have  recog- 
nized the  familiar  flail,  forge,  and  hand  loom  of  his  own  day. 


400 


READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 


Suddenly,  however,  a  series  of  ingenious  devices  were  in- 
vented, which  in  a  few  generations  eclipsed  the  achievements 
of  ages  and  revolutionized  every  branch  of  industry.  These 
serve  to  explain  the  world  in  which  we  live,  with  its  busy 
cities,  its  gigantic  factories  filled  with  complicated  machinery, 
its  commerce  and  vast  fortunes,  its  trades  unions  and  labor 
parties,  its  bewildering  variety  of  plans  for  bettering  the  lot 
of  the  great  mass  of  the  people.  The  story  of  the  substitution 
for  the  distaff  of  the  marvellous  spinning  machine  with  its 
swiftly  flying  fingers,  of  the  development  of  the  locomotive 
and  the  ocean  steamer  which  bind  together  the  uttermost 
parts  of  the  earth,  of  the  perfecting  press,  producing  a  hun- 
dred thousand  newspapers  an  hour,  of  the  marvels  of  the 
telegraph  and  the  telephone,  —  this  story  of  mechanical  in- 
vention is  in  no  way  inferior  in  fascination  and  importance 
to  the  more  familiar  history  of  kings,  parliaments,  wars, 
treaties,  and  constitutions. 

The  revolution  in  manufacture  during  the  past  two  cen- 
turies may  perhaps  be  best  illustrated  by  the  improvements  in 
the  methods  of  spinning  and  weaving  wool  and  cotton,  which 
are  so  important  to  our  welfare  and  comfort.  The  main 
operations  had  remained  essentially  the  same  from  the  time 
when  men  first  began  to  substitute  coarse  woven  garments 
for  the  skins  of  animals,  down  to  the  eighteenth  century. 

The  wool  was  first  "  carded,"  that  is,  cleaned  and  straight- 
ened out  by  means  of  "  cards,"  or  wooden  combs  some  five 
inches  long.  The  next  step  was  to  twist  it  into  thread,  fine 
or  coarse  as  the  quality  of  the  cloth  demanded.  This  was 
accomplished  by  means  of  the  distaff  and  spindle,  —  two  very 
simple  implements  which  may  be  seen  in  almost  any  histori- 
cal museum,  or  even  in  actual  use  in  out-of-the-way  places  of 
Europe.  The  spinner  held  under  her  arm  a  bunch  of  carded 
wool  fixed  to  the  distaff ;  then  with  her  fingers  she  drew  out 


THE  INDUSTRIAL  RF.VOLUTION  40 1 

and  twisted  a  few  inches  of  the  fibre,  and  attached  it  to  a 
hook,  or  notch,  in  the  end  of  a  short  stick  called  the  spindle, 
which  she  permitted  to  swing  down  freely,  whirling  like  a 
top  as  it  went.  She  fed  out  the  fibre  gradually,  and  when 
three  or  four  feet  were  properly  twisted  she  would  unhook 
the  end  of  the  thread  from  the  top  of  the  spindle  and  wind 
the  thread  on  the  lower  part  of  it.  She  would  then  begin  a 
new  length  at  the  point  where  the  finished  thread  merged 
into  the  loose  fibre  on  her  distaff. 

Compared  with  this  slow  method,  the  spinning  wheel  of 
our  great-grandmothers  was  a  wonderful  contrivance  ;  but  the 
process  was  still  very  much  the  same.  The  wool  was  fixed 
on  a  distaff,  a  litde  of  it  was  drawn  out  to  make  a  beginning 
and  attached  to  a  small  spindle  driven  b\-  a  wheel  worked  by 
a  treadle.  As  the  lengths  of  thread  were  spun  they  were 
wound  on  a  bobbin.  This  one-thread  wheel  appears  to  have 
been  in  general  use  in  England  in  the  days  of  Queen  Eliza- 
beth, though  the  distaff  was  still  employed  by  women  in  the 
fields  or  on  the  way  to  market  where  the  wheel  was  not 
available.    As  late  as  1757  an  English  poet  wrote  : 

And  many  yet  adhere 
To  the  ancient  distaff  at  the  bosom  fixed, 
Casting  the  whiriing  spindle  as  they  walk. 
At  home,  or  in  the  sheepfold,  or  the  mart, 
Alike  the  work  proceeds. 

If  one  examines  a  bit  of  cloth,  whether  it  be  the  finest 
silk  or  the  coarsest  burlap,  he  will  find  that  it  is  made  up 
of  threads  running  lengthwise,  known  as  the  warp,  and 
shorter  threads  called  the  weft,  running  in  and  out  across  the 
warp  and  at  right  angles  to  it.  Weaving  had  from  time  im- 
memorial been  carried  on  by  means  of  a  very  simple  loom 
constructed  as  follows  :  Two  rollers  were  fixed  horizontally, 
some  four  or  five  feet  apart,  in  a  frame,  and  the  threads 


402 


READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 


of  the  warp,  laid  close  together,  were  wound  on  one  of  the 
rollers.  The  loose  ends  were  then  attached  to  the  second 
roller,  fixed  in  the  frame  near  the  stool  where  the  weaver  sat. 
The  cross  thread,  or  weft,  was  then  wound  on  a  stick  called 
the  shuttle,  which,  in  the  seventeenth-century  loom,  was 
simply  a  notched  piece  of  wood.  This  primitive  shuttle 
required  two  men  to  work  it,  one  to  start  it  on  one  side, 
and  another  to  pull  it  out  and  start  it  back  again  from  the 
other  side. 

Now  in'  order  to  interlace  the  threads  of  the  weft  with 
those  of  the  warp,  the  long  threads  composing  the  warp  were 
attached  alternately  to  two  wooden  bars,  i.e.  every  other 
thread  was  attached  to  one  of  the  bars,  and  the  remaining 
threads  to  the  other  bar.  This  enalDled  the  weaver  to  raise 
the  alternate  threads  by  lifting  one  of  the  bars  ;  then  the 
shuttle  would  be  thrown  across ;  he  would  then  lower  this 
set  of  threads  and  raise  the  other,  and  the  shuttle  would  be 
thrown  back.  In  this  way  the  first  thread  of  the  weft  went 
over  the  first  thread  of  the  warp,  under  the  second,  and  so 
on.  The  next  thread  of  the  weft  went  under  the  first  thread 
of  the  warp,  over  the  second,  and  so  on,  thus  producing  the 
fabric.  There  was  a  simple  device  for  pushing  the  threads 
of  the  weft  close  together  as  the  work  progressed. 

Early  in  the  eighteenth  century  a  number  of  English 
workmen  were  busy  trying  to  improve  the  implements  for 
making  cloth  and  finally,  in  1738,  John  Kay,  of  Bury  in 
Lancashire,  invented  a  contrivance  which  enabled  a  weaver, 
without  any  assistant,  to  drive  the  shuttle  back  and  forth, 
even  through  a  wide  strip,  by  means  of  a  handle  placed  con- 
veniently in  front  of  his  stool.  By  this  invention  one  weaver 
could  now  do  the  work  of  two,  and  consequently  the  demand 
for  woolen  and  cotton  thread  to  be  worked  into  cloth  rapidly 
increased ;  indeed,  the  weavers  could  now  work  much  faster 


THE  INDUSTRIAL  REVOLUTION  403 

than  the  spinners  who  suppHed  them  with  yarn  and  thread, 
and  it  became  imperative  to  discover  some  quicker  method 
of  spinning. 

The  Society  for  the  Encouragement  of  Arts  and  Manu- 
factures offered  in  1761  two  prizes  for  improvements  in  the 
spinning  wheel.  Their  hopes  were  abundantly  fulfilled  by  the 
ingenuity  of  a  Blackburn  weaver  and  carpenter,  James  Har- 
greaves,  who  about  1767  contrived  a  novel  spinning  machine 
known  as  the  jenny  (probably  named  after  his  daughter), 
which  drove  eight  spindles  instead  of  one  and  enabled  a  child 
to  do  the  work  of  eight  or  ten  spinners  using  the  old-fashioned 
wheel.  The  machine  was  a  very  simple  one,  — a  rectangular 
frame  mounted  on  four  legs.  At  one  end  were  the  spindles, 
standing  in  a  row  and  revolved  by  a  wheel.  In  front  of  them 
was  a  frame,  moving  back  and  forth,  through  which  the 
threads  gathered  from  the  prepared  cotton,  or  "  rovings,"  were 
drawn,  and  attached  to  the  ends  of  the  spindles.  The  frame 
was  then  drawn  back,  stretching  out  four  or  five  feet  of  the 
rovings,  when  the  spindles  rapidly  revolved,  twisting  the 
fibres  into  firm  threads.  By  a  little  device  the  twisted  threads 
were  then  loosened  from  the  top  of  the  spindles,  dropped 
down,  and  wound  about  the  base  of  the  spindles  as  the  frame 
moved  back  towards  them.  Before  his  death  in  1778,  Har- 
greaves  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  some  twenty  thousand 
of  his  jennies  in  operation. 

Many  workmen  were  busy  with  projects  for  improving  the 
machinery  used  in  spinning,  but  it  was  reserved  for  a  barber 
of  Preston,  Richard  Arkwright,  to  establish  the  first  great 
factories  filled  with  power-driven  machines.  He  is  accused 
of  having  stolen  the  inventions  which  he  patented,  and 
there  seems  to  be  much  truth  in  the  charges  ;  at  all  events  a 
genius  for  turning  other  men's  ideas  to  practical  account  on 
a  large  scale.    In  1768  he  patented  a  device  which  consisted 


404  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

essentially  of  two  pairs  of  rollers  placed  a  little  distance 
apart.  When  the  rovings  were  fed  between  these,  the  second 
pair,  by  reason  of  its  higher  speed,  drew  out  the  cotton  or 
wool  into  thread,  which  was  wound  on  bobbins  as  it  passed 
from  the  rollers. 

Arkwright  took  out  many  other  patents  for  improvements 
in  textile  machiner)^  and  established  a  number  of  factories, 
run  at  first  by  water  power  and  later  by  steam.  He  was  a 
shrewd,  hard-headed  business  man  and  accumulated  a  fortune 
of  two  and  a  half  million  dollars,  an  achievement  which 
would  have  been  impossible  so  long  as  the  old  hand  machin- 
ery was  used.  He  is  therefore  known  as  the  father  of  the 
factory  system. 

Arkwright's  device  had  one  serious  drawback.  While  it 
would  spin  threads  for  warp  or  coarse  fabrics,  it  would  not 
twist  the  fibre  tightly  enough  to  make  the  finer  threads.  This 
defect  was  remedied  in  1779  by  Crompton,  who  made  a 
happy  combination  of  Hargreaves's  spinning  jenny  and  Ark- 
wright's roller  machine,  which  was  named  the  "  mule."  The 
system  of  rollers  was  used  to  reduce  the  rovings,  while  the 
movable  frames  and  spindles  were  used  to  stretch  and  twist 
the  thread.  This  invention  quickly  supplanted  other  ma- 
chines and  gave  a  great  impetus  to  the  cotton  trade,  although 
Crompton,  like  so  many  inventors,  enriched  others  rather 
than  himself  by  his  brilliant  achievement. 

With  these  machines  as  a  basis  improvements  were  con- 
stantly made  until,  before  the  end  of  the  eighteenth  century, 
two  hundred  spindles  were  operated  on  a  single  mule.  The 
spinning  machine  of  to-day,  the  combination  of  many  hun- 
dred separate  patents,  has  a  thousand  spindles,  each  revolv- 
ing at  an  almost  incredible  speed,  drawing,  twisting,  and 
winding  automatically,  and  requiring  the  attention  of  only 
one  or  two  boys  to  mend  broken  threads. 


I'HE  INDUSTRIAL  RKVULUTION  405 

It  was  now  necessary  that  improvements  in  weaving  should 
overtake  those  in  spinning,  for  the  spinners  could  furnish  yarn 
and  thread  more  rapidly  than  the  weavers  could  work  it  up  into 
cloth.  In  1 784  a  clergyman  of  Kent,  Dr.  Cartwright,  took  the 
first  steps  in  the  construction  of  a  loom,  all  the  operations  of 
which  could  be  performed  mechanically  by  revolving  a  single 
wheel.  Happening  to  meet  some  gentlemen  from  Manchester 
who  were  talking  about  Arkwright's  extraordinary  invention, 
he  suggested  that  some  one  should  try  to  contrive  a  loom  which 
could  be  run  by  water  or  steam  power,  but  his  listeners  unan- 
imously agreed  that  the  thing  was  impossible.  Nevertheless 
three  years  later  ( 1 787)  he  patented  a  new  and  workable  power 
loom.  While  hand  weaving  still  held  its  own  for  a  quarter 
of  a  century,  it  afforded  a  more  and  more  precarious  existence 
for  the  workmen  who  tried  to  compete  with  CartwTight's  new 
machine.  In  18 13  there  were  already  twenty-four  hundred 
power  looms  in  England,  and  a  quarter  of  a  centur}^-  later  the 
number  had  increased  to  more  than  one  hundred  thousand. 

Other  machines  for  cheapening  the  production  of  cloth  were 
gradually  invented  ;  for  example,  a  new  device  for  printing 
calico.  This  cheap  cotton  fabric  came  originally  from  India, 
and  derives  its  name  from  Calicut,  whence  it  was  first  im- 
ported into  England.  Its  brilliant  color  and  its  cheapness  made 
it  very  popular.  The  Huguenots,  who  appear  to  have  intro- 
duced the  calico  industry  into  England  shortly  after  the 
revocation  of  the  Edict  of  Nantes,  colored  the  white  cloth  by 
means  of  blocks  which  were  inked  and  then  stamped  on  the 
goods  by  hand.  In  1783  this  slow  method  was  superseded 
by  the  use  of  rollers  upon  which  the  designs  were  cut,  one 
roller  being  devoted  to  each  color  used.  The  cloth  was  run 
between  the  rollers  at  a  very  high  rate  of  speed,  so  that  one 
man  could  turn  out  as  much  calico  in  a  day  as  two  hundred 
persons  could  do  with  the  old  hand  blocks. 


4o6  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

About  the  same  time  it  was  discovered  that  it  was  possible 
to  bleach  cloth  by  using  acid  instead  of  relying  principally 
upon  the  light  of  the  sun.  In  this  way  a  process  which 
formerly  had  required  several  months  was  reduced  to  a 
few  days. 

With  all  these  contrivances  for  spinning  and  weaving, 
nothing  had  been  done  to  facilitate  removing  the  seed  from 
raw  cotton.  In  the  southern  states  of  America,  where  most 
of  the  cotton  was  produced,  it  still  took  an  old  colored  woman 
nearly  a  whole  day  to  clean  one  pound  of  raw,  green  seed 
cotton,  while  the  best  of  workers  could  prepare  only  five  or 
six  pounds  a  day.  Eli  Whitney,  a  young  Yankee  who  was 
studying  law  in  the  South,  recognized  the  difficulties  with 
which  the  planters  had  to  deal  and,  having  a  genius  for 
mechanics,  he  set  to  work  to  make  a  cotton  cleaner.  In  1792 
he  announced  the  success  of  his  efforts,  and  when  his  "  gin," 
as  it  was  called,  was  perfected,  one  man  by  its  aid  could  clean 
upwards  of  a  thousand  pounds  a  day. 

The  effect  of  these  inventions  in  increasing  the  amount 
of  cloth  which  was  manufactured  was  astonishing.  In  1764 
England  imported  only  about  four  million  pounds  of  cotton. 
In  1 84 1  she  used  nearly  five  hundred  million  pounds  annually. 
At  the  close  of  the  Napoleonic  wars,  Robert  Owen,  a  dis- 
tinguished manufacturer  and  philanthropist,  declared  that  his 
two  thousand  workmen  at  New  Lanark  could  do  as  much  work 
with  the  new  machinery  which  had  been  invented  during  the 
previous  forty  years  as  all  the  operatives  in  Scotland  could  do 
without  it. 

The  Steam  Engine 

In  order  that  inventions  should  further  develop  and  be- 
come widely  useful,  two  things  were  necessary :  In  the  first 
place,  there  must  be  a  sufficiently  strong  material  available 


THE  INDUSTRIAL  REVOLUTION  407 

out  of  which  to  construct  the  machinery,  and  for  this  purpose 
iron  and  steel  have,  with  few  exceptions,  proved  the  most 
satisfactory.  In  the  second  place,  some  adequate  power  had 
to  be  found  to  propel  the  machinery,  which  is  ordinarily  too 
heavy  to  be  run  by  hand  or  foot.  Of  course  windmills  were 
common,  and  water  falls  and  running  streams  had  long  been 
used  to  turn  water  wheels,  but  these  forces  were  too  restricted 
and  uncertain  to  suffice  for  the  rapid  development  of  machin- 
ery which  resulted  from  the  beginnings  we  have  described. 
Consequently  while  Hargreaves,  Arkwright,  and  Crompton 
were  successfully  solving  the  problem  of  new  methods  of 
spinning  and  weaving,  other  inventors  were  endeavoring  to 
supply  the  material  for  making  the  machinery  and  to  discover 
an  adequate  power  to  run  it. 

Iron  and  steel  had,  of  course,  been  used  for  hundreds 
and  even  thousands  of  years  for  tools,  weapons,  and  armor ; 
and  the  expansive  power  of  steam  was  known  before  the 
opening  of  the  Christian  era,  but  had  not  been  put  to  any 
useful  purpose.  So,  although  the  eighteenth-century  inventors 
could  base  their  new  devices  upon  older  discoveries,  they 
were  forced  to  find  some  means  for  greatly  cheapening  the 
production  of  iron  and  steel,  and  for  applying  steam  to 
ever)'day  uses. 

If  one  examines  a  modern  steam  engine,  he  will  find  the 
principal  parts  very  simple.  In  the  first  place,  there  are  the 
furnace  and  boiler  for  generating  steam.  The  boiler  is  filled 
about  two  thirds  full  of  water,  which  is  heated  by  the  fur- 
nace. In  the  second  place,  there  is  the  engine  proper,  which 
consists  of  a  hollow  cylinder,  a  piston,  a  crank,  and  a  fly 
wheel.  The  piston  rod  has  a  head  which  fits  snugly  in  the 
cylinder,  and  as  the  steam  is  automatically  turned  first  into 
one  end  of  the  cylinder  and  then  into  the  other,  it  forces 
the  piston  back  and  forth.   The  end  of  the  piston  rod  wliich 


4o8  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

projects  from  the  cylinder  is  attached  to  an  arm,  which  is 
jointed  in  such  a  way  as  to  drive  a  wheel. 

No  single  genius  contributed  all  the  parts  that  go  to  make 
up  the  steam  engine,  simple  as  they  may  seem.  Huyghens, 
a  Dutchman,  who  lived  in  the  latter  part  of  the  seventeenth 
centur)',  appears  to  have  been  the  first  to  suggest  that  a 
piston  could  be  moved  up  and  down  in  a  cylinder  by  the 
explosion  of  gas  or  gunpowder.  A  little  later  an  English- 
man, Newcomen,  profiting  by  the  discoveries  of  earlier  in- 
ventors, devised  a  workable  steam  engine  which  could  be 
used  for  pumping.    .  .   . 

Newcomen's  engine,  crude  and  imperfect  as  it  was,  pre- 
pared the  way  for  the  inventions  of  James  Watt,  to  whom 
we  largely  owe  the  practical  and  economical  steam  engine, 
which  has  for  more  than  a  century  been  the  main  source  of 
power  used  in  our  factories,  and  has  proved  equally  suitable 
for  propelling  ships  and  railroad  trains.    .   .  . 

His  great  achievements  may  be  summarized  briefly.  Instead 
of  leaving  one  end  of  the  cylinder  open,  as  Newcomen  had 
done,  in  order  that  the  pressure  of  the  air  might  push  down 
the  piston  head,  Watt  closed  both  ends  and  introduced  a  clever 
system  of  valves  which  admitted  the  steam  automatically  first 
into  one  end  of  the  cylinder  and  then  into  the  other,  thus 
moving  the  piston  up  and  down.  He  invented  the  revolving 
balls,  or  "  governor,"  to  control  the  speed  of  the  engine,  thus 
making  it  entirely  automatic  and  insuring  the  regularity  of  its 
motion.  Taking  up  the  projects  of  other  inventors,  he  devised 
a  simple  arrangement  of  a  rod  and  crank  by  which  he  made 
it  possible  to  drive  a  wheel  that  could  be  connected  by  a  belt 
with  machinery  for  spinning.  In  1 785  steam  was  first  used  to 
run  spinning  machines  in  a  factory  ...  in  Nottinghamshire. 
Arkwright  adopted  it  in  1 790,  and  by  the  end  of  the  century 
steam  engines  were  as  common  as  wind  and  water  mills.  .  .  . 


THE  INDUSTRIAL   REVOLUTION  409 

The  Factory  System 

Having  seen  how  machinery  was  introduced  into  England 
in  the  latter  part  of  the  eighteenth  century  and  how  steam 
came  to  be  utilized  as  a  motive  power,  we  have  now  to  con- 
sider the  important  results  of  these  inventions  in  changing 
the  conditions  under  which  people  lived  and  worked.  Up  to 
this  time,  the  term  "  manufacture  "  still  meant,  as  it  did  in 
the  original  Latin  {inanu  faccre),  "  to  make  by  hand."  Arti- 
sans carried  on  a  trade  with  their  own  tools  in  their  own 
homes  or  in  small  shops,  as  the  cobbler  does  to-day.  Instead 
of  working  with  hundreds  of  others  in  great  factories  and 
being  entirely  dependent  upon  his  wages,  the  artisan,  in 
England  at  least,  was  often  able  to  give  some  attention  to 
a  small  garden  plot,  from  which  he  derived  a  part  of  his 
support.  This  "domestic  system,"  as  it  is  called,  is  graphi- 
cally described  by  the  journalist,  Defoe,  as  he  observed  it  in 
Yorkshire  during  a  journey  through  England  in  1 724-1726. 

'"  The  land  was  divided  into  small  enclosures  of  from  two 
acres  to  six  or  seven  acres  each,  seldom  more,  every  three 
or  four  pieces  having  a  house  belonging  to  them  ;  hardly  a 
house  standing  out  of  speaking  distance  from  another.  We 
could  see  at  every  house  a  tenter  and  on  almost  ever}^  tenter 
a  piece  of  cloth,  or  kersie,  or  shalloon.  At  every  considerable 
house  there  was  a  manufactory.  Every  clothier  keeps  one 
horse  at  least  to  carry  his  manufactures  to  market,  and  ever}-- 
one  generally  keeps  a  cow  or  two,  or  more,  for  his  famil)-. 
By  this  means  the  small  pieces  of  enclosed  land  about  each 
house  are  occupied,  for  they  scarce  sow  corn  [i.e.  grain] 
enough  to  feed  their  poultr)^  The  houses  are  full  of  lusty 
fellows,  some  at  their  dye  vat,  some  at  their  looms,  others 
dressing  the  cloth  ;  the  women  and  children  carding  or  spin- 
ning, all  being  employed  from  the  youngest  to  the  eldest." 


4IO  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

As  the  Industrial  Revolution  progressed,  these  hand  work- 
ers found  themselves  unable  to  compete  with  the  swift  and 
tireless  machines.  Manufacturing  on  a  small  scale  with  the 
simple  old  tools  and  appliances  became  increasingly  unprofit- 
able. The  workers  had  to  leave  their  cottages  and  spend 
their  days  in  great  factories  established  by  capitalists  who  had 
enough  money  to  erect  the  huge  buildings,  and  install  in  them 
the  elaborate  and  costly  machinery  and  the  engines  to  run 
it.  As  an  English  writer  has  concisely  put  it,  "the  typical 
unit  of  production  is  no  longer  a  single  family  or  group  of 
persons  working  with  a  few  cheap,  simple  tools  upon  small 
quantities  of  raw  material,  but  a  compact  and  closely  organ- 
ized mass  of  labor  composed  of  hundreds  or  thousands  of  in- 
dividuals co-operating  with  large  quantities  of  expensive  and 
intricate  machinery  through  which  passes  a  continuous  and 
mighty  volume  of  raw  material  on  its  way  to  the  consuming 
public." 

One  of  the  principal  results  of  the  factory  system  is  that 
it  makes  possible  a  minute  division  of  labor.  Instead  of 
giving  his  time  and  thought  to  the  whole  process,  each 
worker  concentrates  his  attention  upon  a  single  stage  of  it, 
and  by  repeating  a  simple  set  of  motions  over  and  over  again 
acquires  wonderful  dexterity.  At  the  same  time  the  period  of 
necessary  apprenticeship  is  shortened,  because  each  separate 
task  is  comparatively  simple.  Moreover  the  invention  of  new 
machinery  is  increased,  because  the  very  subdivision  of  the 
process  into  simple  steps  often  suggests  some  way  of  sub- 
stituting mechanical  action  for  that  of  the  human  hand. 

An  example  of  the  greatly  increased  output  rendered  pos- 
sible by  the  use  of  machinery  and  the  division  of  labor  is 
given  by  the  distinguished  Scotch  economist,  Adam  Smith, 
whose  great  work,  The  Wealth  of  Nations,  appeared  in 
1776.    Speaking  of  the  manufacture  of  a  pin  in  his  own  time. 


THE  INDUSTRIAL  REVOLUTION  411 

Adam  Smith  says  :  "To  make  the  head  requires  two  or  three 
distinct  operations  ;  to  put  it  on  is  a  pecuhar  business,  to 
whiten  the  pin  is  another.  It  is  even  a  trade  by  itself  to  put 
them  into  the  paper,  and  the  important  business  of  making  a 
pin  is,  in  this  manner,  divided  into  about  eighteen  distinct 
operations."  By  this  division,  he  adds,  ten  persons  can  make 
upwards  of  forty-eight  thousand  pins  a  day.  This  was  when 
machinery  was  in  its  infancy.  A  recent  writer  reports  that 
an  EngHsh  machine  now  makes  one  hundred  and  eighty  pins 
a  minute,  cutting  the  wire,  flattening  the  heads,  sharpening 
the  points,  and  dropping  the  pin  into  its  proper  place.  In 
a  single  factory  which  he  visited  seven  million  pins  were 
made  in  a  day,  and  three  men  were  all  that  were  required  to 
manage  the  mechanism. 

Another  example  of  modern  mechanical  work  is  found  in 
printing.  For  several  centuries  after  Ciutenberg  printed  his 
first  book,  the  type  was  set  by  hand,  inked  by  hand,  each 
sheet  of  paper  was  laid  by  hand  upon  the  type  and  then 
printed  by  means  of  a  press  operated  by  a  hand  lever.  Now- 
adays our  newspapers,  in  the  great  cities  at  least,  are  printed 
almost  altogether  by  machiner)^  from  the  setting  up  of  the 
type  until  they  are  dropped,  complete,  and  counted  out  by 
hundreds,  at  the  bottom  of  a  rotary  press.  The  paper  is  fed 
into  the  press  from  a  great  roll  and  is  printed  on  both  sides 
and  folded  at  the  rate  of  five  hundred  or  more  newspapers 
a  minute. 

Before  the  coming  of  machinery  industry-  was  not  con- 
centrated in  a  few  great  cities,  but  was  scattered  more  or  less 
evenly  over  the  country  in  the  hands  of  small  masters,  or 
independent  workmen,  who  combined  manufacturing  with 
agriculture  on  a  small  scale.  For  example,  the  metal  workers 
of  West  Bromwich  and  the  cutlers  of  Sheffield  (already 
famous  in  Chaucer's  day)  lived  in  cottages  with  small  plots 


412  READINGS   IN  ENGLISH   HISTORY 

of  land  around  them,  and  in  dull  seasons,  or  to  change  their 
occupation,  engaged  in  gardening.  The  factory  system  put 
an  end  to  all  this.  The  workmen  now  had  to  live  near  their 
work  ;  long  rows  of  houses,  without  gardens  or  even  grass 
plots,  were  hastily  built  around  the  factory  buildings,  and 
thus  the  ugly  tenement  districts  of  our  cities  came  into 
existence. 

This  great  revolution  in  the  methods  of  manufacturing 
produced  also  a  sharp  distinction  between  two  classes  of  men 
involved.  There  were,  on  the  one  hand,  the  capitalists  who 
owned  the  buildings  and  all  the  mechanism,  and,  on  the 
other,  the  workmen  whom  they  hired  to  operate  the  machines. 
Previous  to  the  eighteenth  centur\',  those  v/ho  owned  large 
estates  had  been,  on  the  whole,  the  most  important  class  in 
political  and  social  life.  But,  alongside  of  the  landed  aris- 
tocracy, a  powerful  mercantile  class  had  arisen,  whose 
wealth,  gained  by  commerce  and  trade,  gave  them  influence 
in  the  affairs  of  the  nation.  With  the  improvements  in 
machinery  there  was  added  the  new  class  of  modern  capital- 
ists, who  amassed  fortunes  by  establishing  great  manufac- 
turing industries. 

The  workingman  necessarily  became  dependent  upon  the 
few  who  were  rich  enough  to  set  up  factories.  He  could 
no  longer  earn  a  livelihood  in  the  old  way  by  conducting 
a  small  shop  to  suit  himself.  The  capitalist  owned  and 
controlled  the  necessary  machinery,  and  so  long  as  there 
were  plenty  of  workmen  seeking  employment  in  order  to 
earn  their  daily  bread,  the  owner  could  fix  a  low  wage  and 
long  hours.  While  an  individual  employee  of  special  ability 
might  himself  become  a  capitalist,  the  ordinary  workman 
would  have  to  remain  a  workman.  The  question  of  the 
proportion  of  the  product  which  should  go  to  the  workers, 
and  that  which  may  properly  be  taken  by  the  capitalist,  or 


rilK   IXDrSTRIAT.   RF.Vr)I,UTION  413 

manager,  who  makes  a  successful  business  possible,  lies  at  the 
basis  of  the  great  problem  of  capital  and  labor.  This  matter, 
especially  the  solution  advocated  by  the  socialists,  will  be 
discussed  later. 

The  destruction  of  the  domestic  system  of  industr)-  had 
also  a  revolutionary  effect  upon  the  work  and  the  lives  of 
women  and  children.  In  all  except  the  heaviest  of  the 
mechanical  industries,  such  as  iron  working  or  shipbuilding, 
the  introduction  of  simple  machines  tended  greatly  to  in- 
crease the  number  of  women  and  children  employed  com- 
pared with  the  men.  For  example,  in  the  textile  industry 
in  England  during  the  fifty  years  from  1841  to  1891,  the 
number  of  males  employed  increased  fifty-three  per  cent,  and 
the  number  of  females  two  hundred  and  twenty-one  per  cent. 
Before  the  invention  of  the  steam  engine,  when  the  simple 
machines  were  worked  by  hand,  children  could  be  employed 
only  in  some  of  the  minor  processes,  such  as  preparing  the 
cotton  for  spinning.  But  in  the  modern  factory,  labor  is 
largely  confined  to  watching  machines,  piecing  broken  threads, 
and  working  levers,  so  that  both  women  and  children  can  be 
utilized  as  effectively  as  men,  and  much  more  cheaply. 

Doubtless  the  women  were  by  no  means  idle  under  the 
old  system  of  domestic  industn,-,  but  their  tasks  were  varied 
and  performed  at  home,  whereas  under  the  new  system  they 
must  flock  to  the  factory  at  the  call  of  the  whistle,  and  labor 
monotonously  at  a  speed  set  by  the  foreman.  This  led  to 
many  grave  abuses  which,  as  we  shall  see,  the  State  has  been 
called  upon  to  remedy  by  factory  legislation,  which  has  served 
to  save  the  women  and  children  from  some  of  the  worst 
hardships,  although  a  great  deal  still  remains  to  be  done. 
On  the  other  hand,  thousands  of  women  belonging  to  the 
more  fortunate  classes  have  been  relieved  of  many  of  the 
duties  which  devolved  upon  the  housewife  in  the  eighteenth 


414 


READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 


centur}-  when  many  things  were  made  at  home  which  can 
now  be  better  and  more  cheaply  produced  on  a  large  scale. 

Before  the  Industrial  Revolution  there  had  been  no  sud- 
den change  in  the  life  and  habits  of  the  people,  since  the 
same  tools  had  been  used  in  the  same  way,  often  by  the  same 
family,  from  generation  to  generation.  When  invention  be- 
gan change  began,  and  it  seems  likely  to  become  more  and 
more  rapid,  since  new  and  better  ways  of  doing  things  are 
discovered  daily.  Old  methods  give  way  to  new  ones,  and 
the  workman  of  to-day  may  successively  engage  in  a  con- 
siderable variety  of  occupations  during  his  life  as  industries 
rise,  are  transformed,  and  decline  under  the  stress  of  com- 
petition and  invention.  This  serves  to  shake  the  workingman 
out  of  the  old  routine,  encourages  him  to  move  from  place 
to  place  as  circumstances  dictate,  and  so  widens  his  experi- 
ence and  broadens  his  mind.  He  has  also  learned  to  combine 
with  his  fellows  into  national  unions,  and  even  international 
congresses  of  workingmen  are  held  to  consider  their  common 
interests. 

To  these  changes  still  another  may  be  added,  i.e.  the 
expansion  of  commerce.  In  spite  of  the  development  of 
trade  before  the  eighteenth  centur)',  a  great  part  of  the  goods 
produced  were  destined  to  be  consumed  in  the  neighborhood, 
whereas,  after  the  invention  of  machinery,  it  became  custom- 
ary to  manufacture  goods  which  might  be  sold  in  any  part 
of  the  world  ;  so  that  one  would  find  the  products  of  Man- 
chester or  Birmingham  in  Hongkong,  Melbourne,  or  Bula- 
wayo.  According  to  official  estimates,  the  exports  of  England, 
which  amounted  to  less  than  fourteen  million  pounds  sterling 
in  1783,  exceeded  twenty-nine  millions  thirteen  years  later. 


RICHARD  CUiJDEN  415 

N limber  yo 
RICHARD  COBDEN 

John   Rricht.    Pnb/ic  Addresses  by  John  Bright,  M. P.,  Y>Y>-?>h7~?>(H-   Edited 
by  James  E.  Thorold  Rogers. 
This  selection  is  taken  from  an  address  delivered  at  Bradford,  July  25, 
1877,  on  the  unveiHng  of  a  statue  of  Cobden. 

I  come  to  speak  for  a  little  while  of  my  lamented  friend. 
You  know,  probably,  that  Mr.  Cobden  was  not  what  in  the 
world's  language  is  called  high-born  ;  that  he  did  not  enter 
upon  life  with  what  are  called  great  connections  ;  that  he 
was  not  surrounded  by  the  appliances  of  wealth  ;  that  it  could 
not  be  said  of  him  that  '  Fortune  came  smiling  to  his  youth 
and  wooed  it,'  for  he  was  born,  if  not  in  a  humble,  at  least 
in  a  very  moderate,  farm-house,  and  of  a  respectable  and  quiet 
and  honourable  family  in  the  county  of  Sussex.  Of  his 
school-days  I  shall  say  only  this,  that  I  suppose  he  had  no 
better  opportunity  of  education  in  the  school  to  which  he 
went  than  almost  all  boys  of  similar  age  throughout  the 
whole  of  Great  Britain  have  now.  He  had  no  opportunity  of 
attending  ancient  Universities,  and  availing  himself  of  their 
advantages,  and  —  I  am  afraid  I  might  say  —  in  some  degree, 
perhaps,  of  suffering  from  some  of  the  disadvantages  from 
which  those  Universities  are  not  free.  When  he  entered  into 
life  —  I  mean  after  he  left  his  parents'  home — he  had  no  high 
patronage  to  see  that  his  path  was  cleared  before  him.  Me 
came  to  London.  He  held  a  situation  in  an  office  and  ware- 
house, I  think  in  Watling  Street,  and  he  entered  immediately 
into  the  pursuits  of  business,  we  may  be  sure  with  alacrity 
and  with  intelligence.  From  Watling  Street,  by  an  accident, 
it  became  his  duty  to  come  down  to  the  North  of  Lmgland, 
as  the  agent  of  the  house  of  business  in  which  he  was ;  and 


4l6  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

in  the  North  of  England  his  observant  and  intelHgent  eye 
discovered  very  soon  that  in  Yorkshire  or  Lancashire  —  but 
especially  in  Lancashire,  with  which  he  became  more  familiar 

—  there  was  a  field  where,  by  certain  qualities  which  he  felt 
that  he  possessed,  he  would  be  able  to  make  his  way,  and  be 
enabled  to  prosper. 

He  settled  in  Manchester  when  he  was  only  twenty-six  years 
of  age,  about  the  year  1 830.  His  business  was  that  of  a  calico- 
printer.  He  had  an  excellent  taste  in  design  and  in  colour. 
He  had  all  the  qualities,  then,  of  a  good  man  of  business  — 
industry,  intelligence,  sagacity,  probity  of  the  highest  kind 

—  and,  therefore,  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  his  success 
was  great  and  rapid.  But  then  he  had  a  mind  that  was  ex- 
pansive and  sympathetic,  and  he  could  not  be  content  with 
his  ledgers  and  his  business  and  his  profits,  but  his  heart 
went  out  at  once  to  the  great  population  amongst  whom  he 
lived.  He  looked  around  him  and  he  saw  their  condition 
and  their  wants,  and  the  first  great  public  question  to  which 
he  turned  his  mind,  as  far  as  I  am  able  to  gather,  was  the 
question  of  public  and  national  education  ;  and  I  know  the 
first  time  that  I  became  acquainted  with  him  was  in  connec- 
tion with  that  question.  But  he  not  only  had  this  sympathy 
in  regard  to  what  he  deemed  necessary  for  the  instruction  of 
the  people,  but  he  found  that  their  interests  were  greatly 
affected  by  what  he  thought  an  unwise  foreign  policy  on  the 
part  of  the  Government  and  the  country,  and  so  early  as  1834 
or  1835  he  published  a  pamphlet  under  the  title  of  '  Eng- 
land, Ireland,  and  America  '  —  a  pamphlet,  I  venture  to  say, 
of  such  sagacity  and  foresight  that  it  has  probably  never  been 
excelled  by  any  essay  on  politics  in  modern  times.  In  this 
pamphlet  he  dealt  at  considerable  length  with  the  question 
of  Russia  and  the  question  of  Turkey,  because  at  that  time 
great  efforts  were  being  made  by  some  persons  to  create  and 


RICHARD  COBDEN  417 

to  excite  jealousy  on  the  part  of  England  against  the  people 
of  Russia  and  the  Russian  government  —  efforts  which  have 
not  ceased  even  to  the  day  in  which  I  am  speaking. 

I  said  that  the  first  time  I  became  acquainted  with  him 
was  in  connection  with  the  subject  of  education.  I  went  over 
to  Manchester  to  call  upon  him  to  ask  him  if  he  would  be  kind 
enough  to  come  to  Rochdale  and  to  speak  at  an  education 
meeting  which  was  about  to  be  held  in  the  Schoolroom  of 
the  Baptist  Chapel,  in  West  Street  of  that  town.  I  found 
him  in  his  office  in  Mosley  Street.  1  introduced  myself  to 
him.  I  told  him  what  I  wanted.  His  countenance  lit  up  with 
pleasure  to  find  that  there  were  others  that  were  working  in 
this  question,  and  he,  without  hesitation,  agreed  to  come.  He 
came  and  he  spoke  ;  and  though  he  was  then  so  young  as  a 
speaker,  yet  the  qualities  of  his  speech  were  such  as  remained 
with  him  so  long  as  he  was  able  to  speak  at  all  —  clearness, 
logic,  a  conversational  eloquence,  a  persuasiveness  which, 
when  conjoined  with  the  absolute  truth  which  there  was  in  his 
eye  and  in  his  countenance  —  a  persuasiveness  which  it  was 
almost  impossible  to  resist.  Well,  not  long  after  this,  there 
came  up  the  question  of  the  Corn  Law,  for  the  skies  had 
lowered  and  the  harvests  were  bad.  In  1838  there  was  a 
considerable  movement  in  Manchester,  partly  made  by  some 
private  individuals,  and  partly  and  most  importantly  by  the 
Chamber  of  Commerce,  and  an  Anti-Corn-Law  Association 
was  formed,  which  ultimately  and  soon  became  the  now 
famous  Anti-Corn-Law  League.  1  will  not  speak  of  the 
labours  of  that  League.  They  are  known  to  some  here. 
Those  times  by  some  are  forgotten,  and  the  League  and  its 
labours  have  gone  into  the  past.  Happily,  its  results  remain, 
and  can  never  be  destroyed.  But  for  seven  years  the  dis- 
cussion on  that  one  question  —  whether  it  was  good  for  a 
man  to  have  half  a  loaf  or  a  whole  loaf  —  for  seven  vears  the 


4l8  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

discussion  was  maintained,  I  will  not  say  with  doubtful  result, 
for  the  result  never  was  doubtful  and  never  could  be  in  such 
a  cause  ;  but  for  five  years  or  more  we  devoted  ourselves 
without  stint ;  every  waking  hour  almost  was  given  up  to  the 
discussion  and  to  the  movement  in  connection  with  this  ques- 
tion. And  there  is  one  incident  that  to  me  is  most  touching 
in  connection  with  it,  which  I  hesitate  to  refer  to,  and  yet 
feel  I  can  scarcely  avoid.  It  was  in  September  in  the  year 
1 84 1 .  The  sufferings  throughout  the  countr)^  were  fearful ; 
and  you  who  live  now,  but  were  not  of  age  to  observe  what 
was  passing  in  the  country  then,  can  have  no  idea  of  the 
state  of  your  country  in  that  year.  If  you  want  to  know  some- 
thing of  it,  and  in  brief,  I  would  ask  you  to  possess  your- 
selves of  a  little  volume  just  published  by  my  old  and  dear 
friend  Mr.  Henr)'  Ashworth,  of  Bolton,  called  '  Recollec- 
tions of  Cobden  and  the  Anti-Corn-Law  League.'  You  will 
find  in  a  portion  of  that  book  a  description  of  a  state  of  things 
not  only  in  all  the  towns,  the  manufacturing  and  industrial 
towns  of  the  country,  but  in  the  agricultural  districts  for 
which  it  was  pretended  the  protection  of  the  Corn  Law  was 
maintained. 

At  that  time  I  was  at  Leamington,  and  I  was,  on  the  day 
when  Mr.  Cobden  called  upon  me  —  for  he  happened  to  be 
there  at  the  time  on  a  visit  to  some  relatives  —  I  was  in  the 
depths  of  grief,  I  might  almost  say  of  despair,  for  the  light 
and  sunshine  of  my  house  had  been  extinguished.  All  that 
was  left  on  earth  of  my  young  wife,  except  the  memory  of  a 
sainted  life  and  of  a  too  brief  happiness,  was  lying  still  and 
cold  in  the  chamber  above  us.  Mr.  Cobden  called  upon  me 
as  his  friend,  and  addressed  me,  as  you  might  suppose,  with 
words  of  condolence.  After  a  time  he  looked  up  and  said, 
'  There  are  thousands  of  houses  in  England  at  this  moment 
where  wives,   mothers,  and   children  are  dying  of  hunger. 


RICHARD  COBDKN  419 

Now,'  he  said,  "when  the  first  paroxysm  of  your  grief  is 
past,  I  would  advise  you  to  come  with  me  and  we  will  never 
rest  till  the  Corn  Law  is  repealed.'  I  accepted  his  invitation. 
I  knew  that  the  description  he  had  given  of  the  homes  of 
thousands  was  not  an  exaggerated  description.  I  felt  in  my 
conscience  that  there  was  a  work  which  somebody  must  do, 
and  therefore  I  accepted  his  invitation,  and  from  that  time 
we  never  ceased  to  labour  hard  on  behalf  of  the  resolution 
which  we  had  made.  Now,  do  not  suppose  that  I  wish  you 
to  imagine  that  he  and  I,  when  I  say  'we,'  were  the  only 
persons  engaged  in  this  great  question.  We  were  not  even 
the  first,  though  afterw^ards,  perhaps,  we  became  the  fore- 
most before  the  public.  But  there  were  others  before  us  ;  and 
we  were  joined,  not  by  scores,  but  by  hundreds,  and  after- 
wards by  thousands,  and  afterwards  by  countless  multitudes  ; 
and  afterwards  famine  itself,  against  which  we  had  warred, 
joined  us  ;  and  a  great  Minister  was  converted,  and  minor- 
ities became  majorities,  and  finally  the  barrier  was  entirely 
thrown  down.  And  since  then,  though  there  has  been  suffer- 
ing, and  much  suffering,  in  many  homes  in  England,  yet  no 
wife  and  no  mother -and  no  little  child  has  been  starved  to 
death  as  the  result  of  a  famine  made  by  law. 

Now,  if  you  cast  your  eyes  over  the  globe,  what  is  it  }ou 
see  .?  Look  at  Canada  ;  look  at  the  United  States,  whether  on 
the  Atlantic  seaboard  or  on  the  Pacific  slope  ;  look  at  Chili ; 
look  at  the  Australian  colonies  ;  look  at  the  great  and  rich 
province  of  Bengal ;  look  on  the  shores  of  the  Black  Sea 
and  the  Baltic  ;  wherever  the  rain  falls,  wherever  the  sun 
shines,  wherever  there  are  markets  and  granaries  and  har- 
vest-fields, there  are  men  and  women  everywhere  gathering 
that  which  comes  to  this  country  for  the  sustenance  of  our 
people  ;  and  our  fleets  traverse  every  sea,  and  visit  every  port, 
and  bring  us  the  food  which  only  about  thirty  years  ago  the 


420  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

laws  of  this  civilized  and  Christian  countty  denied  to  its 
people.  You  find  it  in  Holy  Writ  that  '  The  earth  is  the 
Lord's,  and  the  fulness  thereof.'  We  have  put  Holy  Writ 
into  an  Act  of  Parliament,  and  since  then  of  that  fulness 
every  man  and  woman  and  little  child  in  this  country  may 
freely  and  abundantly  partake. 

After  that  great  work  was  done,  after  the  session  in  which 
Sir  Robert  Peel  paid  that  beautiful  and  most  just  tribute  to 
the  services  of  my  lamented  friend  —  for  you  know  that  he 
had  suffered  at  the  time  from  ill-health,  which  had  caused  his 
absence  for  many  weeks  from  Parliament  during  that  most 
interesting  session  —  he  proceeded  to  the  continent  of  Europe, 
and  visited  most  of  its  principal  capitals.  In  every  city  he  was 
received  by  the  best  men  of  that  city.  He  was  received  theie 
as  a  statesman  who  had  achieved  a  great  triumph  in  his  own 
country,  and  who  deserved  to  be  received  and  accepted  as  a 
friend  and  brother  by  the  friends  of  man  in  every  other  coun- 
try. He  came  back  impressed  with  one  great  feeling  of  sor- 
row that  the  armaments  of  Europe  were  so  great,  and  that  the 
chances  of  war  with  great  armaments  were  so  much  increased. 
He  thought  our  armaments  much  too  large  and  our  taxes  from 
that  source  much  too  heavy,  and  he  wished  to  undertake  a 
movement  to  convince  the  people  that  great  reductions  might 
be  made.  In  that  matter,  I  regret  to  say,  he  entirely  failed. 
The  fact  is  the  people  were  not  sufficiently  instructed.  They 
were  terrified  by  the  stories  set  before  them,  sometimes  by 
ignorant,  sometimes  by  interested  persons,  and  his  effort  in 
that  direction,  as  far  as  any  immediate  action  or  result  was 
concerned,  was  an  entire  failure.  After  that,  and  not  long 
after,  came  another  great  political  transaction,  which  greatly 
disturbed  him,  as  you  may  suppose.  I  mean  the  war  with 
Russia  —  the  Crimean  War.  Turning  back  to  his  pamphlet, 
one  can  understand  the  profound  grief  with  which  he  must 


RICHARD  COBDEN  421 

have  seen  the  poHcy  of  the  country  at  that  time.  He  had 
warned  it  against  such  a  pohcy  ;  he  had  hoped  that  it  was 
impossible  ;  and  yet  in  a  moment  of  passion  and  prejudice 
that  war  was  undertaken.  Speaking  to  me  about  it  more 
than  once,  he  said,  '  When  the  people  are  themselves  in  a 
state  of  frenzy,  so  that  their  reason  seems  to  be  dethroned, 
it  is  useless  to  argue  with  them.  We  must  wait  till  there 
comes  a  cooler  and  more  reasonable  time.'  He  looked  on, 
sad  and  dejected,  till  the  termination  of  the  strife.  .   .  . 

Now  we  come  to  one  other  point  which  was  a  great  grief 
to  my  lamented  friend  ;  that  is,  the  question  of  the  Civil 
War  in  America.  You  know  how  much  he  sympathised,  I 
will  not  say  with  the  institutions,  but  with  the  interests  of  the 
United  States.  He  visited  that  country  twice  during  the - 
course  of  his  life.  He  had  made,  as  he  made  wherever  he 
went,  many  very  earnest  and  very  warm  friends.  He,  I  think, 
was  more  broken  down  in  heart  and  feeling  by  the  Amer- 
ican War,  perhaps,  than  any  other  man  that  I  happened  to 
know  at  that  time  in  England.  He  had  thought  that  there 
was  a  country  spreading  over  a  whole  continent,  and  that  in 
that  country  would  be  perpetual  peace.  There  was  no  great 
army,  there  was  no  great  navy ;  there  were  no  foreign  poli- 
tics ;  America  was  the  home  of  peace.  But  he  had  not  cal- 
culated the  effect  of  a  vast  calamity  like  the  existence  of 
slaver}'  in  that  country.  Slavery  was  one  of  those  devils  that 
would  not  go  out  without  tearing  the  nation  that  was  pos- 
sessed of  it.  But  still  he  always  believed  that  the  result  of 
the  war  would  be  slavery  abolished,  and  the  great  Republic, 
still  one  and  indivisible,  henceforth,  as  he  had  hoped  it  would 
be  before  the  war,  the  advocate  of  peace  and  the  promoter 
of  civilisation.  Now,  mv  friend  did  not  see  the  fulfilment 
of  his  wishes.  It  was  a  circumstance  somewhat  significant, 
and  verv  affecting  to  mx  mind,  that  on  the  verv  dav  that 


42  2  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

President  Lincoln  and  the  Northern  forces  entered  the  city  of 
Richmond,  and  when  in  point  of  fact  the  Slave  Confederacy 
was  vanquished  and  at  an  end  —  on  that  very  day  —  that  very 
Sunday,  the  2nd  of  April,  in  the  year  1865 — ^the  spirit 
of  my  friend  left  its  earthly  tenement,  and  took  its  way  to 
another,  and  to  him  doubtless,  a  brighter  world. 


Number  7/ 
DEVELOPMENT   OF  THE   ENGLISH    CABINET 

F.  C.  Montague.    The  Elements  of  Ettglish    Constitutional  History,  pp. 
163-173- 

Development  of  the  Cabinet — Party  Government.  —  More 
important  than  any  legislative  innovation  made  during  this 
period  was  the  development  of  the  Cabinet.  Its  development 
was  the  direct  consequence  of  the  Revolution  of  1688.  But 
this  consequence  was  not  foreseen  by  any  of  the  statesmen 
who  took  part  in  that  revolution.  The  Cabinet  was  not  the 
deliberate  invention  of  any  one  man,  nor  even  of  a  series  of 
reformers.  It  took  shape  gradually,  and  under  the  pressure 
of  circumstances.  None  of  the  authors  who  in  the  last  cen- 
tury wrote  on  the  Constitution  of  England  had  anything  to 
say  regarding  the  Cabinet.  To  the  present  day  the  Cabinet 
has  never  received  legal  recognition,  yet  it  is  the  very  pivot 
of  government.  Its  history,  therefore,  deserves  to  be  told  at 
some  length. 

The  Two  Forms  of  the  Cabinet. — An  EngHsh  Cabinet  may 
be  defined  as  a  small  council  of  Ministers,  not  known  to  the 
law,  yet  controlling  the  government.  At  different  periods  of 
our  history  such  a  council  has  been  formed  in  different  ways. 
In  the  seventeenth  century  it  was  formed  by  the  monarch 


DEVELOPMENT  OK   11  IE  ENGLISH  CABINET     423 

selecting  those  persons  in  whom  he  had  pecuhar  confidence. 
In  the  eighteenth  century  it  came  to  be  formed  of  those  per- 
sons who  had  the  confidence  of  the  House  of  Commons.  In 
its  first  form  the  Cabinet  was  the  creature  of  the  king;  in  its 
second  form  the  Cabinet  is  the  creature  of  the  Parliament. 
The  transition  from  the  first  to  the  second  form  of  the  Cabinet 
was  brought  about  by  the  Revolution. 

The  Early  Form  of  the  Cabinet.  —  A  Cabinet  in  this  form 
dates  from  the  beginning  of  the  seventeenth  century.  The 
word  Cabinet  is  found  in  Lord  Bacon's  Essays.  The  Privy 
Council,  we  have  seen,  became  too  large  for  the  work  which 
it  was  expected  to  do.  Many  privy  councillors  had  neither 
the  industry,  nor  the  knowledge,  nor  the  ability  required  for 
taking  an  active  part  in  the  government.  From  the  accession 
of  the  Stuarts  onwards  it  became  more  and  more  the  prac- 
tice of  our  kings  to  discuss  affairs  of  state  with  a  few  men 
who  either  held  some  great  ofifice,  or  were  highly  considered 
for  their  talent  or  experience,  or  happened  to  be  royal  favour- 
ites at  the  time.  \\"hat  had  been  agreed  upon  in  this  smaller 
body  would  be  formally  resolved  in  the  larger  Privy  Council. 

Unpopularity  of  the  Cabinet  in  its  Original  Form.  —  The 
law  had  never  recognised  the  existence  of  a  smaller  body 
within  the  Privy  Council.  The  general  public  did  not  know 
who  were  its  members  ;  it  was  therefore  regarded  as  uncon- 
stitutional. It  was  regarded  as  the  instrument  for  forming 
and  executing  designs  which  could  not  bear  the  criticism  of 
upright  independent  statesmen,  and  for  which  no  prudent 
person  would  be  responsible.  A  king  who  wanted  honest 
advice  would  never  consult  with  a  mere  clique  in  the  Privy 
Council.  All  the  privy  councillors  were  entitled  to  have  their 
opinion  asked,  for  the  Privy  Council  was  recognised  by  the 
law  as  the  king's  proper  adviser.  Everybody  knew  who  were 
privy  councillors.    Although  members  of  the  Privy  Council 


424  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

were  bound  to  secrecy,  the  whole  council  could  be  called  to 
account  by  Parliament  if  the  king  persevered  in  evil  courses. 
But  how  could  Parliament  or  the  courts  of  justice  grasp  an 
elusive  body  like  this  secret  council  of  the  king  ? 

Growing  Frequency  of  Cabinet  Councils.  —  It  is  in  vain  that 
any  number  of  persons  set  themselves  against  the  drift  of 
things.  The  Privy  Council  remained  incapable  of  governing, 
so  recourse  was  still  had  to  a  body  which  could  govern.  After 
the  Restoration  an  attempt  was  made  to  render  the  Privy  Coun- 
cil less  cumbrous  and  more  useful.  It  was  divided  into  com- 
mittees for  the  care  of  different  departments  of  State,  such 
as  the  Committee  for  Trade  and  Plantations  and  the  Com- 
mittee for  Foreign  Affairs.  This  expedient  is  not  yet  obsolete, 
but  questions  of  general  policy  requiring  unity  of  power  could 
not  be  treated  thus.  On  such  questions  Charles  II.  still  took 
counsel  with  a  few  persons.  Clarendon,  Ormond,  Southamp- 
ton, and  Nicholas  formed  a  sort  of  Ministry  in  the  first  years 
of  his  reign.  After  the  fall  of  Clarendon,  he  settled  every- 
thing of  consequence  with  the  five  councillors  so  often  de- 
nounced as  the  Cabal.  Their  unpopularity  suggested  to  Sir 
William  Temple  the  need  for  a  further  reform  of  the  Privy 
Council.  He  proposed  to  form  a  new  council  of  thirty  mem- 
bers, all  men  of  independent  fortune.  One  half  were  to  be 
servants  of  the  Crown,  the  other  half  were  to  be  disengaged 
from  that  service.  But  the  reformed  Privy  Council  was  still 
too  large  and  too  discordant  to  be  of  any  use  ;  it  speedily 
broke  up.  Charles  reverted  to  his  old  practice  of  secret  coun- 
cils. James  II.  followed  the  same  method.  After  the  Revo- 
lution William  III.  ignored  the  Privy  Council,  and  settled 
his  policy  with  the  help  of  a  few  trusty  advisers.  The  clause 
in  the  Act  of  Settlement  requiring  that  the  Privy  Council 
should  transact  all  the  business  which  had  formerly  belonged 
to  it  remained  a  dead  letter. 


DEVELOPMENT  OF  THE  ENGLISH  CABL\ET     425 

The  Later  Form  of  the  Cabinet.  —  As  yet  the  Cabinet  was 
not  regularly  composed  of  members  of  the  party  which  had 
the  majority  in  the  House  of  Commons.  The  tradition  that 
the  king  chose  his  own  advisers  had  not  lost  its  force.  He 
was  not  yet  required  to  take  them  all  from  the  party  which 
happened  to  be  strongest.  It  was  enough  if  none  of  his  ad- 
visers were  so  much  disliked  by  the  majority  in  the  House 
of  Commons  as  to  run  the  risk  of  impeachment.  It  was  not 
necessary  that  all  should  positively  enjoy  the  confidence  of 
that  majority,  for  it  was  still  the  accepted  principle  that  the 
king  was  to  govern,  and  that  the  Commons  had  only  to  pre- 
vent him  from  misgoverning,  l^ut  the  Revolution  of  1688 
made  it  impossible  to  adhere  to  this  principle.  The  Revolu- 
tion brought  about  a  state  of  affairs  in  which  no  government 
was  possible  without  the  active  and  incessant  co-operation  of 
the  Commons.  In  order  to  obtain  this  co-operation  the  king 
was  obliged  to  choose  for  Ministers  those  statesmen  who 
had  the  confidence  of  the  Commons,  or,  in  other  words,  who 
held  the  opinions  of  the  majority  in  that  House. 

William  III.  struggled  for  some  time  against  this  conclu- 
sion. He  wished  to  be  king  of  the  whole  nation,  not  the  chief 
of  a  party.  He  began  by  taking  the  fittest  men  for  Ministers, 
irrespective  of  their  opinions.  But  he  found  by  experience 
that  a  Ministry  thus  composed  was  weak  in  itself,  and  could 
not  hope  for  fair  play  in  Parliament. 

Lord  Sunderland,  a  statesman  of  great  experience  and  sub- 
tlety, showed  him  that  he  would  have  less  trouble  in  govern- 
ing if  all  his  Ministers  were  of  the  party  prevailing  in  the 
Commons.  Between  1693  and  1696  he  gradually  formed  a 
Ministry  of  Whigs.  But  when  the  Whigs  lost  their  ma- 
jority in  the  House,  he  was  again  at  a  disadvantage  ;  for  a 
Tory  Ministry  could  not  enter  into  his  plans  as  the  Whigs 
had  done. 


426  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

When  William  III.  died,  Marlborough  carried  on  his  pol- 
icy. Marlborough,  who  had  always  been  a  Tory,  tried  at  first 
to  govern  with  the  help  of  his  own  party.  Finding  them 
indifferent  or  hostile  to  the  war  with  France,  he  was  led 
gradually  to  replace  them  with  Whigs.  In  1708  the  whole 
Ministry  was  Whig.  Two  years  later  the  Tories  won  at  the 
general  election.  The  Whig  Ministry  was  displaced  and  a 
Tory  Ministry  succeeded.  After  Anne's  death  another  change 
of  fortune  came.   The  Ministers  of  George  I.  were  all  Whigs. 

Thus,  by  degrees,  with  no  fixed  design  on  the  part  of  any 
one,  and  simply  as  a  matter  of  convenience,  grew  up  the 
practice  of  choosing  Ministers  solely  from  the  party  which 
was  strongest  in  the  House  of  Commons.  Once  this  practice 
was  established,  it  led  to  remarkable  consequences.  Formerly 
all  that  was  expected  of  Ministers  was  that  they  should  be 
loyal  to  the  king.  Now  they  were  expected  to  be  loyal  to  their 
party,  and  consequently  to  each  other.  In  form  they  still 
were,  they  still  are,  the  servants  and  counsellors  of  the 
Crown.  In  fact,  they  became,  and  have  continued  ever  since, 
the  servants  and  advisers  of  the  majority  in  the  House 
of  Commons. 

As  the  king  was  prevented  by  his  position  from  making 
common  cause  with  either  party,  party  government  could  not 
be  complete  until  the  king  was  practically  deprived  of  his 
share  in  governing.  This  process  was  assisted  by  an  acci- 
dent :  George  I.  could  not  speak  English.  He  therefore 
thought  it  useless  to  preside  at  the  meetings  of  the  Cabinet. 
He  was  the  first  king  of  England  who  stayed  away  from  these 
meetings.  Thus  he  gave  rise  to  the  custom,  now  firmly  estab- 
lished, that  the  Cabinet  consults  together  apart  from  the  sov- 
ereign. But  when  once  the  sovereign  had  ceased  to  preside 
in  the  Cabinet,  it  was  natural  to  seek  some  other  president. 
The  person  naturally  chosen  was  the  Minister  most  respected 


DEVELOPMENT  OF  THE  ENGLISH  CABINET     427 

by  the  party.  The  leader  of  tlie  party  thus  tended  to  become 
a  Prime  Minister;  this  term  was  long  unpopular  in  England. 
A  Prime  Minister  was  long  regarded  as  an  ambitious  subject 
who  stood  between  the  people  and  their  sovereign.  The  name 
was  anxiously  disavowed  by  Ministers  who  really  exercised 
the  power  of  Prime  Minister.  It  was  not  used  in  any  oflficial 
document  until  the  Congress  of  Berlin  in  the  year  1878. 

The  Prime  Minister.  —  Under  the  modern  constitution  of 
P^ngland,  the  Prime  Minister  is  the  most  powerful  man  in 
the  State.  His  functions  have  never  been  defined  by  statute, 
but  they  have  been  accurately  defined  by  custom.  They  are 
principally  three  —  to  exercise  a  general  control  over  the 
whole  executive  government ;  to  be  the  organ  of  communica- 
tion between  the  Cabinet  and  the  sovereign,  and  to  be  the 
organ  of  communication  between  the  Cabinet  and  Parliament. 

L  The  Prime  Minister  as  CoiitJ-olling  tJic  Executive. — 
The  Prime  Minister  may  or  may  not  take  charge  of  some 
special  department.  One  Prime  Minister  has  been  Secretary 
of  State  for  Foreign  Affairs,  another  has  been  Chancellor  of 
the  Exchequer.  Others  have  held  some  office  without  any 
serious  duties,  usually  that  of  Mrst  Lord  of  the  Treasury. 
What  office  a  Prime  Minister  shall  hold  is  a  matter  for  his 
personal  preference,  but  every  Prime  Minister  exercises  a  gen- 
eral control  over  all  the  departments.  Such  control  does  not 
extend  to  the  details  of  administration,  which  the  head  of 
each  department  settles  for  himself  ;  but,  whenever  a  question 
of  policy  has  to  be  decided,  the  head  of  the  department  is 
bound  to  inform  the  Prime  Minister  and  to  defer  to  his 
opinion.  This  is  particularly  necessary  when  a  proposed 
charge  would  affect  the  public  expenditure.  For  the  Prime 
Minister  arbitrates,  as  it  were,  between  the  demands  of  differ- 
ent departments  on  the  public  purse.  The  Prime  Minister 
is  also  expected  to  bestow  particular  attention  upon  foreign 


428  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH   HISTORY 

affairs.  Ever}-  important  despatch  received  or  written  by  the 
Secretar)'  for  Foreign  Affairs  must  be  submitted  to  the 
Prime   Minister. 

II.  Tlic  Prime  Minister  as  the  Organ  of  Cinnmnnication 
betzveen  the  Cabinet  and  the  Sovereign.  —  The  second  func- 
tion of  the  Prime  Minister  is  to  inform  the  sovereign  of 
the  feehngs  and  opinions  of  the  Cabinet,  and  the  Cabinet 
of  the  feehngs  and  opinions  of  the  sovereign.  None  of  his 
colleagues  is  allowed  to  meddle  in  this  business.  The  sover- 
eign, it  is  true,  often  communicates  directly  with  the  head  of 
a  particular  department  in  order  to  obtain  official  information  ; 
but  it  is  considered  unconstitutional  for  the  sovereign  thus  to 
communicate  with  the  head  of  a  department  upon  any  ques- 
tion of  general  policy,  or  upon  the  action  of  the  government 
as  a  whole.  Such  communications,  if  continued,  would  lead 
to  the  Prime  Minister's  insisting  upon  the  resignation  of  his 
colleague  or  else  sending  in  his  own  resignation. 

III,  The  Prime  Minister  as  the  Orgaii  of  Commiinication 
between  the  Cabinet  and  the  Parliament.  —  The  position  of 
the  Prime  Minister  with  reference  to  Parliament  is  similar 
to  his  position  with  reference  to  the  Crown.  All  communica- 
tions to  Parliament  concerning  the  feelings  or  opinions  of 
the  Cabinet  must  be  made  either  by  the  Prime  Minister  in 
person  or  with  his  knowledge  and  approval.  Mere  official 
information  may  be  given  by  the  head  of  a  particular  depart- 
ment to  the  House  of  which  he  is  a  member.  The  Prime 
Minister  usually  holds  the  important  though  ill-defined  posi- 
tion of  leader  of  that  House  in  which  he  sits,  and  thus  en- 
joys by  custom  certain  privileges  in  making  statements  to 
that  House. 

Relation  of  the  Prime  Minister  to  the  Individual  Members 
of  his  Cabinet.  —  The  relation  of  the  Prime  Minister  to  indi- 
vidual members  of  his  Cabinet  is  verv  difficult  to  define.   The 


DF.VKI.orMl'.N'r  OI'    11  IK   KXCil.ISli  CAIilNK'l'     429 

Prime  Minister  is  intrusted  h)-  the  sovereign  with  the  duty 
of  choosing  his  colleagues.  In  the  performance  of  this  duty 
he  may  use  his  discretion,  limited  only  by  the  necessity  of 
choosing  the  men  of  the  greatest  ability  and  influence  in  his 
party.  It  is  true  that  the  limitation  thus  imposed  is  very 
narrow.  When  the  Prime  Minister  has  chosen  his  colleagues, 
he  is  bound  to  discuss  with  them  every  question  of  general 
importance.  If  any  one  of  them  disagrees  with  the  Prime 
Minister  and  the  rest  of  the  Cabinet,  he  must  either  resign 
his  office  or  stifle  his  dissatisfaction  and  act  loyally  with  his 
colleagues  in  carr)dngout  their  opinion.  The  same  rule  holds 
where  several  members  of  the  Cabinet  disagree  with  the  Prime 
Minister  and  the  rest.  For,  by  the  usage  of  the  Constitu- 
tion, the  Prime  Minister  is  entitled  to  go  on  governing  as 
long  as  he  can  command  a  majority  in  the  House  of  Com- 
mons. Colleagues  who  disapprove  of  his  conduct  may  resign, 
and  when  they  have  resigned  may  do  their  best  to  defeat  him 
in  that  House.  If  they  are  influential,  they  will  probably  suc- 
ceed in  this  attempt,  and  so  force  him  to  resign  ;  but  consti- 
tutional usage  requires  them  so  long  as  they  remain  in  the 
Cabinet  to  support  him  loyally,  and  to  refrain  from  prejudicing 
either  the  sovereign  or  the  Parliament  against  him. 

Deliberations  of  the  Cabinet.  —  The  members  of  the  Cabi- 
net are  always  members  of  the  Privy  Council.  As  privy  coun- 
cillors they  arc  sworn  not  to  disclose  anything  said  in  the 
discussion  of  affairs  of  State.  No  minutes  are  taken  of  the 
proceedings  in  a  Cabinet  Council,  but  it  is  known  that  these 
proceedings  are  quite  informal  ;  they  are  not  like  the  pro- 
ceedings of  Parliament.  It  is  not  usual  to  make  set  speeches. 
It  is  most  unusual  to  press  matters  to  a  division.  The  object 
of  everybody  present  is  to  find  out  the  general  drift  of  opin- 
ion, and  to  adapt  himself  to  that.  The  final  resolution  is 
accepted  as  the  resolution  of  ever)'  member  of  the  Cabinet. 


430  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

The  Prime  Minister,  if  able  and  energetic,  usually  dominates 
in  these  discussions. 

The  Working  of  the  Cabinet  System.  —  It  is  the  peculiarity 
of  the  Cabinet  system,  as  above  described,  to  combine  much 
of  the  unity,  secrecy,  and  promptitude  which  belong  to  a 
despotic  monarchy,  with  complete  dependence  upon  the  good- 
will of  a  large  representative  assembly.  Such  dependence 
would  make  government  impossible  were  that  assembly  a 
mere  loose,  unconnected  gathering  of  individuals  or  of  small 
knots  of  men.  But  the  House  of  Commons  has  very  rarely 
fallen  into  that  condition  ;  it  has  usually  been  divided  into 
two  great  parties,  each  of  which  is  firmly  bound  together  by 
tradition,  by  opinion,  by  interest,  and  by  strict  organization. 
The  ordinary  member  will  go  far  indeed  before  he  deserts 
his  party,  and  the  party  will  go  far  before  it  deserts  a  leader 
whose  ability,  experience,  and  reputation  it  has  found  highly 
advantageous.  These  circumstances  make  tolerable  the  de- 
pendence of  the  Cabinet  upon  the  House  of  Commons.  The 
Cabinet  system  is  essentially  based  upon  the  party  system. 
Cabinet  government  is  thus  open  to  the  grave  objection  of 
undergoing  a  change  of  policy  whenever  a  party  which  has 
previously  been  in  a  minority  acquires  a  majority.  This  ob- 
jection would  be  fatal  if  the  two  great  parties  did  not  agree 
in  many  of  the  most  fundamental  ideas  of  government.  If 
they  differed  like  Catholics  and  Protestants  in  the  sixteenth, 
or  like  Cavaliers  and  Roundheads  in  the  seventeenth  century, 
party  government  would  involve  everlasting  revolution.  The 
Cabinet  system,  therefore,  cannot  work  well  except  in  a 
country  where  political  differences  are  restricted  and  political 
passions  are  under  control. 

Ministerial  Responsibility  under  the  Cabinet  System.  — 
Under  the  Cabinet  system  ministerial  responsibility  assumed 
a  new  form.    So  long  as  Ministers  were  really  appointed  and 


])F,VKL()l'MK\'r  OI"  THE  ENCMSII  (  AlilXET     431 

dismissed  by  the  king,  it  was  only  by  means  of  impeachment 
that  the  House  of  Commons  could  drive  a  Minister  from 
office.  Thus,  in  order  to  get  rid  of  a  Minister  whose  policy 
they  condemned,  the  Commons  had  recourse  to  a  criminal 
accusation,  and,  in  order  to  carr}^  their  point,  often  wrested 
the  law,  especially  the  law  of  treason,  in  the  most  arbitrary 
and  shameful  manner  ;  but  from  the  time  when  difference  of 
opinion  between  the  Minister  and  the  majority  of  the  Com- 
mons resulted,  as  a  matter  of  course,  in  the  resignation  of 
the  Minister,  impeachment  was  confined  to  its  proper  use  as 
a  means  of  bringing  actual  law-breakers  to  justice.  A  fallen 
Minister  had  no  longer  any  reason  to  fear  the  loss  of  his  life 
or  estate,  and  even  young  members  of  the  House  of  Commons 
ceased  to  threaten  the  king's  advisers  with  the  axe  and  block. 

Final  Prevalence  of  the  Cabinet  System.  —  The  Cabinet 
system,  as  above  described,  was  not  completed  until  the  nine- 
teenth century.  But  it  was  established  in  all  important  points 
in  the  course  of  the  reigns  of  George  I.  and  George  H.  Sir 
Robert  Walpole  was,  perhaps,  the  first  Prime  Minister  in  the 
modern  sense  of  that  term.  During  his  long  term  of  office, 
from  1 72 1  to  1742,  he  asserted  his  right  to  be  the  mouth- 
piece of  the  Ministry  in  Parliament  and  in  the  royal  closet. 
He  enforced  strict  subordination  on  the  part  of  ever)'  col- 
league. Any  one  w'ho  tried  to  exercise  the  independence 
formerly  enjoyed  by  Ministers  and  privy  councillors  was 
promptly  dismissed  from  office. 

Reaction  against  the  Cabinet  System.  —  Walpole  anxiously 
disclaimed  the  title  of  Prime  Minister,  which  he  knew  to  be 
hateful  to  the  English  people,  but  his  unquestionable  suprem- 
acy provoked  a  violent  reaction.  Both  Whig  and  Tory  had 
reason  to  dislike  the  Cabinet  system.  Proud  of  their  birth, 
their  wealth,  their  hereditary  influence  in  the  State,  the  Whig 
chiefs  were  naturally  averse  to  a  system  which  merged  all 


432  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

their  wills  in  the  will  of  one  ambitious  member  of  the  House 
of  Commons.  Taught  by  tradition  that  the  king  was  the  real, 
not  merely  the  nominal,  head  of  the  State,  the  Tories  were 
instinctively  hostile  to  a  system  which  reduced  the  royal 
authority  to  a  shadow.  Yet  they  might  have  acquiesced  in  a 
diminution  of  the  power  of  a  Hanoverian  king  if  it  had  not 
been  accompanied  by  their  entire  and  permanent  exclusion 
from  ofifice.  As  it  was,  the  Tories  who  wished  to  be  Ministers 
united  with  the  Whigs  who  had  been  driven  out  of  the  Min- 
istry. Lord  Bolingbroke  expounded  the  constitutional  theory 
of  the  opposition  in  his  famous  treatise,  "  The  Patriot  King." 
The  patriot  king  was  to  revive  the  tradition  of  the  English 
monarchy,  to  disregard  part}',  and  to  select  wherever  he  could 
find  them  those  Ministers  who  were  willing  to  work  under 
him  for  the  common  good. 

The  Opposition  at  length  succeeded  in  driving  Walpole 
from  office.  But  they  did  not  seriously  endeavour  to  give  effect 
to  the  doctrines  of  Bolingbroke.  After  some  years  of  weakness 
and  confusion  caused  by  jarring  ambitions,  events  renewed 
their  natural  course,  and  the  Cabinet  system  was  restored. 


CABINET  GOVERNMENT  IN  ENGLAND 

ROBINSOX  AND  Beard.  Development  of  Modern  Europe,  Vol.  II.  pp.  193-198. 

These  reforms,  which  at  last  permit  the  people  at  large 
to  select  the  members  of  the  House  of  Commons,  have  left 
untouched,  so  far  as  appearances  are  concerned,  the  ancient 
and  honorable  institutions  of  the  king  and  the  House  of 
Lords.  The  sovereign  is  crowned  with  traditional  pomp ; 
coins  and  proclamations   still  assert   that  he  rules  "  by  the 


CABINET  GOVERNMENT   IN    ENGLAND       433 

grace  of  God  "  ;  and  laws  purport  to  be  enacted  "  by  the 
king's  most  excellent  Majesty,  by  and  with  the  advice  and 
consent  of  the  Lords  Spiritual  and  Temporal  and  Commons 
in  Parliament  assembled."  Justice  is  executed  and  the  colo- 
nies governed  in  the  name  of  the  king.  The  term  "  royal  " 
is  still  applied  to  the  army,  the  navy,  and  the  mail  service, 
reserving,  as  a  wit  once  remarked,  the  word  "  national  "  only 
for  the  public  debt. 

There  was  a  time,  of  course,  when  the  highest  prerogatives 
were  really  exercised  by  the  king  of  lu-igland.  Henr)'  VIII, 
for  example,  appointed  his  own  ministers  and  dismissed  them 
at  will.  lie  made  war  and  peace  at  his  pleasure  and  exer- 
cised such  an  influence  on  the  elections  that  Parliament  was 
filled  with  his  supporters.  The  long  struggle,  however,  be- 
tween the  king  and  the  Parliament  in  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury, and  the  circumstances  of  the  revolution  of  1688  which 
placed  William  and  Mary  on  the  throne,  made  Parliament 
the  predominant  element  in  the  English  government.  The 
king  is  still  legally  empowered  to  veto  any  bill  passed  by 
Parliament,  but  he  never  exercises  this  power.  He  has  in 
reality  only  the  right  to  be  consulted,  the  right  to  encourage, 
and  the  right  to  warn.  He  cannot  permanently  oppose  the 
wishes  of  the  majority  in  Parliament,  for  should  he  venture 
to  do  so,  he  could  always  be  brought  to  terms  by  cutting  off 
the  appropriations  necessary  to  conduct  his  government. 

The  king  of  England  must  now  act  through  a  ministry 
composed  of  the  important  officers  of  the  government,  such 
as  the  first  lord  of  the  treasury,  the  foreign  secretary,  the 
colonial  secretary,  the  secretary  of  the  war  department,  with 
the  prime  minister  as  their  head.  The  development  of  this 
ministry,  which  is  known  as  the  cabinet,  has  been  described 
in  an  earlier  chapter.  It  was  pretty  firmly  established  under 
George  I  and  George  II,  who  were  glad  to  let  others  manage 


434  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

the  government  for  them.  While  the  king  nominally  appoints 
the  members  of  the  cabinet,  that  body  is  in  reality  a  com- 
mittee selected  from  the  party  which  has  a  majority  in  the 
House  of  Commons.  The  reasons  for  this  were  also  explained 
earlier  in  dealing  with  the  English  government  in  the  eight- 
eenth century  and  need  not  be  repeated  here. 

The  party  which  secures  the  majority  in  a  parliamentary 
election  is  entitled  to  place  its  members  in  all  the  important 
government  offices.  The  party  leaders  hold  an  informal  caucus 
and  agree  on  a  prime  minister,  who  then  takes  one  of  the 
cabinet  offices.  .  .  .  After  the  party  has  chosen  its  leader 
he  is  appointed  prime  minister  by  the  king,  who  charges  him 
with  the  task  of  naming,  with  the  advice  of  his  political  asso- 
ciates, the  other  occupants  of  cabinet  positions,  who  may  be 
selected  from  among  the  lords  as  well  as  the  commons.  Thus 
it  comes  abo.ut  that,  unlike  the  President  of  the  United  States 
and  his  cabinet,  who  must  communicate  with  Congress  through 
messages,  reports,  or  other  indirect  means,  the  prime  minis- 
ter and  the  heads  of  departments  in  England  themselves  sit 
in  Parliament  and  can  therefore  present  and  defend  their 
own  proposals. 

The  body  of  officials  so  constituted  draft  the  more  important 
measures  to  be  laid  before  Parliament  and  decide  on  the  for- 
eign and  domestic  policy  to  be  pursued  by  the  government. 
At  the  opening  of  each  session  of  Parliament  the  general 
program  of  the  cabinet  is  laid  before  the  House  of  Lords  and 
the  House  of  Commons  in  the  form  of  the  "  king's  speech," 
which  is  read  by  the  sovereign  or  his  representative.  In  its 
secret  sessions  the  head  of  each  department  presents  to  the 
cabinet  the  measures  which  he  recommends  in  his  particular 
branch  of  the  government.  If,  after  discussion,  these  are 
approved  by  a  majority  of  the  other  members,  they  are  sub- 
mitted to  the  House  of  Commons.   In  all  matters  the  cabinet 


CABINET  GOVERNMENT  IN  ENGLAND       435 

acts  as  a  unit,  and  whenever  a  member  cannot  agree  with  the 
majority  on  an  important  point  he  is  bound  to  resign.  The 
cabinet  therefore  presents  a  united  front  to  ParHament  and 
the  countr)^  An  interesting  illustration  of  this  is  to  be  found 
in  the  story  told  of  Lord  Melbourne  when  prime  minister. 
His  cabinet  was  divided  on  the  question  of  the  duty  on  grain, 
and  with  his  back  against  the  door,  he  declared  to  them  : 
"  Now,  is  it  to  lower  the  price  of  corn  or  isn't  it?  It  does 
not  matter  much  what  we  say,  but  mind,  we  must  all  say 
the  same  thing." 

Whenever  the  House  of  Commons  expresses  its  disapproval 
of  the  policy  of  the  ministry,  either  by  defeating  an  important 
measure  or  by  a  direct  vote  of  censure,  the  cabinet  is  bound 
to  do  one  of  two  things.  It  may  resign  in  a  body  and  thus 
make  room  for  a  new  ministr)^  made  up  from  the  opposite 
party.  If,  however,  the  ministers  feel  that  their  policy  has 
popular  support  outside  of  Parliament,  they  may  "  go  to  the 
country,"  that  is  to  say,  they  may  ask  the  king  to  dissolve 
the  existing  Parliament  and  order  a  new  election  in  the  hope 
that  the  people  may  indicate  its  approval  of  their  policy  by 
electing  their  supporters.  The  further  action  of  the  ministr)^ 
is  then  determined  by  the  outcome  of  the  election.  The  re- 
turn of  a  majority  of  members  in  favor  of  the  ministerial 
policy  is  taken  as  justification  for  retaining  office.  On  the 
other  hand,  a  failure  to  gain  a  majority  is  the  signal  for  the 
resignation  of  the  entire  ministr}'  and  the  transference  of 
power  to  their  opponents. 

As  the  members  of  the  House  of  Commons  are  not  elected 
for  a  definite  term  of  years  (though  according  to  law  elections 
must  be  held  at  least  every  seven  years),  that  body  may  be  dis- 
solved at  any  time  for  the  purpose  of  securing  an  expression 
of  the  popular  will  on  any  important  issue.  It  is  thus  clear 
that  the  British  government  is  more  sensitive  to  public  opinion 


436  READINGS  IX   ENGLISH  HISTORY 

than  are  governments  where  the  members  of  the  legislatures 
are  chosen  for  a  definite  term  of  years.  For  example,  in  the 
United  States,  Congressmen  are  elected  for  two  years  and 
Senators  for  six  ;  consequently  when  a  crisis  arises  it  usually 
has  to  be  settled  by  men  who  were  not  chosen  according  to 
their  views  on  that  particular  question,  while  in  England  a 
new  election  can  be  held  with  direct  reference  to  the  special 
issue  at  hand. 

Nevertheless,  the  reader  will  naturally  ask,  how  is  it  that 
the  British  government  can  be  so  democratic  and  yet  retain, 
in  its  upper  house,  a  body  of  hereditary  peers  responsible  to 
no  constituents  ?  The  explanation  is  that  the  House  of  Com- 
mons, by  reason  of  its  ancient  and  exclusive  right  of  initiat- 
ing all  money  bills,  can  control  the  king  and  force  him,  if 
necessary,  to  create  enough  new  peers  to  pass  any  measure 
blocked  by  the  House  of  Lords.  In  practice  the  king  does 
not  have  to  do  more  than  threaten  such  a  measure  to  bring 
the  House  of  Lords  to  terms. 

Although  many  bills  have  been  defeated  in  the  House  of 
Lords  during  the  nineteenth  century,  a  sort  of  constitutional 
understanding  has  grown  up  that  the  upper  house  must  yield 
to  an  unmistakable  and  definite  expression  of  popular  opinion 
in  favor  of  a  measure  which  it  has  previously  opposed.  How- 
ever, the  House  of  Lords  is  increasingly  unpopular  with  a 
large  class  in  England.  Its  members  for  the  most  part  take 
little  or  no  interest  in  their  duties  and  rarely  attend  the 
sessions.  The  opposition  of  the  peers  to  the  educational 
bill  introduced  in  1906  has  again  raised  the  question  of  the 
abolition  or  complete  reorganization  of  the  upper  house. 

The  smooth  working  of  the  English  cabinet  system  may 
be  partially  attributed  to  the  fact  that  during  the  nineteenth 
century  there  were  only  two  political  parties  represented  in 
Parliament,  —  the  Conservatives,  who  dropped  the  name  Tory 


THE   EXTENSION  OF  THE   FRANCHISE        437 

after  the  first  parliamentary  reform,  and  the  Liberals,  who 
abandoned  the  name  of  Whig  about  the  same  time.  The 
leaders  of  the  former  party  came  principally  from  the  aris- 
tocracy and  landed  proprietors,  while  the  latter  found  its  chiefs 
among  the  middle  classes.  These  two  parties  were  alternately 
in  power,  and  it  was  not  until  1906  that  their  joint  monopoly 
of  politics  was  threatened  by  the  election  of  over  fifty  labor 
members,  some  of  whom  are  organized  into  a  solid  group 
acting  independently.  The  Irish  party,  of  course,  stands 
firmly  fof  home  rule,  but  is  willing  to  cooperate  with  other 
parties,  especially  the  Liberals,  to  obtain  its  ends.  At  the 
present  juncture  it  appears  possible  that  England  may  de- 
velop a  many-party  system  comparable  to  that  existing  in 
the  countries  of  the  Continent. 


Number  yj 
THE   ILXTENSION   OF   THE   FRA^XHISE 

William  Ewart  Gladstone.    Excerpt  from  a  speech  delivered  in  the 
House  of  Commons,  April  27,  1866.    Hansard,  Parliameniary  Debates, 
Series  III,  Vol.  183,  pp.  146-149.  i  51-152. 
For  the  author,  see  Number  69,  above. 

...  I  am  justified,  then,  in  stating  that  the  working 
classes  are  not  adequately  represented  in  this  House.  They 
are  not,  it  is  admitted,  represented  in  any  proportion  to  their 
numbers  ;  and  without  holding  that  it  would  be  fit  for  us  to 
do  more  than  lessen  the  disproportion,  we  contend  it  is  right 
to  do  as  much.  They  are  not  represented,  as  I  have  previously 
shown,  in  accordance  witli  tlieir  share  of  the  income  of  the 
country.  Especially  after  the  events  of  the  last  few  years,  I 
may  boldly  proceed  to  say  they  are  not  represented  in  propor- 
tion to  their  intelligence,  their  virtue,  or  their  loyalty.   F^inally, 


438  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

they  are  less  represented  now  than  they  were  thirty-six  years 
ago,  when  they  were  less  competent  to  exercise  the  franchise, 
A  greater  amount  of  representation  with  a  less  amount  of  fitness 
was  not  found  to  be  injurious,  but  wholesome,  for  the  State  ; 
and  now,  when,  as  you  admit,  there  is  a  greater  amount  of  fit- 
ness, and,  as  you  must  grant,  a  less  amount  of  representation, 
you  are  not  disposed  to  accede  to  a  further  measure  of  enfran- 
chisement. If  these  are  not  good  reasons  for  extending  the 
suffrage  at  the  present,  I  know  not  what  reasons  can  be  good. 
But  if  hon.  Members  think  they  can  hold  their  ground  in  a 
policy  of  resistance  and  refusal  for  the  present,  1  have  to  ask 
them,  how  do  they  regard  the  future  ?  My  right  hon.  Friend 
the  Member  for  Calne  ^  has  prophesied  to  us  in  the  most  em- 
phatic terms,  the  ruin  of  the  British  Constitution.  His  proph- 
ecies were  beautiful  so  far  as  his  masterly  use  of  the  English 
language  is  concerned.  But  many  prophecies  quite  as  good 
may  be  found  in  the  pages  of  Mr.  Burke  and  Mr.  Canning 
and  other  almost  equally  distinguished  men.  What  has  been 
the  fate  of  those  prophecies  .''  What  use  do  they  now  serve  ? 
They  form  admirable  material  of  declamations  for  schoolboys, 
and  capital  exercises  to  be  translated  into  Greek.  The  proph- 
ecies of  my  right  hon.  Friend,  like  those  of  even  greater  men 
than  he,  may  some  thirty  years  hence  serve  a  similar  purpose. 
They  may,  for  the  beauty  and  force  of  their  language,  be 
selected  by  teachers  at  colleges  and  schools  as  exercises  for 
their  pupils,  and  my  right  hon.  Friend  will  have  his  reward, 
as  others  have  had  theirs.  Ut piicris placeas  et  declamatiofias? 
My  hon.  Friend  says  we  know  nothing  about  the  labouring 
classes.  Is  not  one  single  word  a  sufficient  reply  .-'  That  word 
is  Lancashire  ;    Lancashire,-^  associated  with  the  sufferings 


1  Mr.  Lowe.  -  To  please  boys  and  furnish  material  for  declamation. 

8  The  cotton  and  woolen  mills  of  Lancashire  were  shut  down  because  the  supply 
of  raw  cotton  from  the  United  States  was  cut  off  by  the  Civil  War. 


THK   KX'lT,NSIO\   OF  TKK    IR.\\( -IIISK 


439 


of  the  last  four  years,  so  painful  and  bitter  in  themselves 
to  contemi)late,  but  so  nobly  and  gloriously  borne  ?  The  (juali- 
ties  then  exhibited  were  the  qualities  not  of  select  men  here 
and  there  among  a  depraved  multitude,  but  of  the  mass  of  a 
working  community.  The  sufferings  were  sufferings  of  the 
mass.  The  heroism  was  heroism  of  the  mass.  For  my  own 
part,  I  cannot  believe  that  the  men  who  exhibited  those  quali- 
ties were  only  a  sample  of  the  people  of  England,  and  that 
the  rest  would  have  wholly  failed  in  exhibiting  the  same 
great  qualities  had  occasion  arisen.  I  cannot  see  what  argu- 
ment could  be  found  for  some  wise  and  temperate  experi- 
ment of  the  extension  of  civil  rights  among  such  people,  if 
the  experience  of  the  last  few  years  does  not  sufficiently 
afford  it. 

And  now.  Sir,  let  us  for  a  moment  consider  the  enormous 
and  silent  changes  which  have  been  going  forward  among 
the  labouring  population.  May  I  use  the  words  to  hon.  and 
right  hon.  Gentlemen  once  used  by  way  of  exhortation  by 
Sir  Robert  Peel  to  his  opponents,  "  elevate  your  vision  ?  " 
Let  us  try  and  raise  our  views  above  the  fears,  the  suspicions, 
the  jealousies,  the  reproaches,  and  the  recriminations  of  this 
place  and  this  occasion.  Let  us  look  onward  to  the  time  of 
our  children  and  of  our  children's  children.  Let  us  know  what 
preparation  it  behoves  us  should  be  made  for  that  coming 
time.  Is  there  or  is  there  not,  I  ask,  a  steady  movement  of 
the  labouring  classes,  and  is  or  is  not  that  movement  a  move- 
ment onwards  and  upwards  .?  I  do  not  say  that  it  falls  beneath 
the  eye,  for,  like  all  great  processes,  it  is  unobservable  in  de- 
tail, but  as  solid  and  undeniable  as  it  is  resistless  in  its  essen- 
tial character.  It  is  like  those  movements  of  the  crust  of  the 
earth  which  science  tells  us  are  even  now  going  on  in  certain 
portions  of  the  globe.  The  sailor  courses  over  them  in  his 
vessel,  and  the  traveller  by  land  treads  them  without  being 


440  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

conscious  of  these  changes  ;  but  from  day  to  day,  from  hour 
to  hour,  the  heaving  forces  are  at  work,  and  after  a  season 
we  discern  from  actual  experience  that  things  are  not  as  they 
were.  Has  my  right  hon.  Friend,  in  whom  mistrust  rises  to 
its  utmost  height,  ever  really  considered  the  astonishing  phe- 
nomena connected  with  some  portion  of  the  conduct  of  the 
labouring  classes,  especially  in  the  Lancashire  distress  ?  Has 
he  considered  what  an  amount  of  self-denial  was  exhibited  by 
these  men  in  respect  to  the  American  war  ?  They  knew  that 
the  source  of  their  distress  lay  in  the  war ;  yet  they  never 
uttered  or  entertained  the  wish  that  any  effort  should  be  made 
to  put  an  end  to  it,  as  they  held  it  to  be  a  war  for  justice,  and 
for  freedom.  Could  any  man  have  believed  that  a  conviction 
so  still,  so  calm,  so  firm,  so  energetic,  could  have  planted  it- 
self in  the  minds  of  a  population  without  becoming  a  known 
patent  fact  throughout  the  whole  country  ?  But  we  knew 
nothing  of  it.  And  yet  when  the  day  of  trial  came  we  saw 
that  noble  sympathy  on  their  part  with  the  people  of  the 
North  ;  that  determination  that,  be  their  sufferings  what  they 
might,  no  word  should  proceed  from  them  that  would  hurt  a 
cause  which  they  so  firmly  believed  to  be  just.  On  one  side 
there  was  a  magnificent  moral  spectacle  ;  on  the  other  side 
was  there  not  also  a  great  lesson  to  us  all,  to  teach  us  that  in 
those  little  tutored,  but  yet  reflective  minds,  by  a  process 
of  quiet  instillation,  opinions  and  sentiments  gradually  form 
themselves  of  which  we  for  a  long  time  remain  unaware,  but 
which,  when  at  last  they  make  their  appearance,  are  found  to 
be  deep-rooted,  mature  and  ineradicable  ?  .  .  . 

.  .  .  May  I  speak  briefly  to  the  hon.  Gentlemen  opposite, 
as  some  of  them  have  addressed  advice  to  Gentlemen  on  this 
side  of  the  House.  I  would  ask  them,  "  Will  you  not  con- 
sider, before  you  embark  in  this  new  crusade,  whether  the 
results  of  those  other  crusades  in  which  you  have  heretofore 


TTTK  EXTENSION  OF  TTIK   FRANCHISE       441 

engaged  liave  been  so  satisfactory  to  you  as  to  encourage  you 
to  repeat  the  operation  ?  "  Great  battles  you  have  fought,  and 
fought  them  manfully.  The  battle  of  maintaining  civil  dis- 
abilities on  account  of  religious  belief,  the  battle  of  resisting 
the  first  Reform  Act,  the  obstinate  and  long-continued  battle 
of  Protection,  all  these  great  battles  have  been  fought  by  the 
great  party  that  I  see  opposite  ;  and  as  to  some  portion  of 
those  conflicts  I  admit  my  own  share  of  the  responsibility. 
But  I  ask,  again,  have  their  results  —  have  their  results  to- 
ward yourselves  —  been  such  as  that  you  should  be  disposed 
to  renew  struggles  such  as  these  ?  Certainly  those  who  com- 
pose the  Liberal  party  here,  at  least  in  that  capacity  have  no 
reason  or  title  to  find  fault.  The  effect  of  your  course  has 
been  to  give  them  for  five  out  of  every  six,  or  for  six  out  of 
every  seven  years  since  the  epoch  of  the  Reform  Act  the 
conduct  and  management  of  public  affairs.  The  effect  has 
been  to  lower,  to  reduce,  and  contract  your  just  influence  in 
the  country,  and  to  abridge  your  legitimate  share  in  the  ad- 
ministration of  the  Government.  It  is  good  for  the  public 
interest  that  you  should  be  strong  ;  but  if  you  are  to  be  strong, 
you  can  only  be  so  by  showing,  in  addition  to  the  kindness 
and  the  personal  generosity  which  I  am  sure  you  feel  towards 
the  people,  a  public,  a  political  trust  and  confidence  in  them. 
What  I  now  say  can  hardly  be  said  with  an  evil  motive.  I  am 
conscious  of  no  such  sentiment  towards  any  man  or  part)-. 
But,  Sir,  we  are  assailed  ;  this  Bill  is  in  a  state  of  crisis  and 
of  peril,  and  the  Government  along  with  it.  We  stand  or  fall 
with  it,  as  has  been  declared  by  my  noble  Friend  Lord  Russell. 
We  stand  with  it  now  ;  we  may  fall  with  it  a  short  time  hence. 
If  we  do  so  fall,  we,  or  others  in  our  places,  shall  rise  with  it 
hereafter.  I  shall  not  attempt  to  measure  with  precision  the 
forces  that  are  to  be  arrayed  against  us  in  the  coming  issue. 
Perhaps  the  great  division  of  tonight  is  not  the  last  that  must 


442  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

take  place  in  the  struggle.  At  some  point  of  the  contest  you 
may  possibly  succeed.  You  may  drive  us  from  our  seats.  You 
may  bury  the  Bill  that  we  have  introduced,  but  we  will  write 
upon  its  gravestone  for  an  epitaph  this  line,  with  certain  con- 
fidence in  its  fulfilment  —  ''  Exoriare  aliqids  nostris  ex  ossi- 
his  7(1  tor."  1  You  cannot  fight  against  the  future.  Time  is 
on  our  side.  The  great  social  forces  which  move  onwards  in 
their  might  and  majesty,  and  which  the  tumult  of  our  debate 
does  not  for  a  moment  impede  or  disturb,  —  those  great  social 
forces  are  against  you  ;  they  are  marshalled  on  our  side,  and 
the  banner  which  we  now  carry  in  this  fight,  though  perhaps 
at  some  moment  it  may  droop  over  our  sinking  heads,  yet 
it  soon  again  will  float  in  the  eye  of  heaven,  it  will  be  borne 
by  the  firm  hands  of  the  united  people  of  the  three  king- 
doms, perhaps  not  to  an  easy,  but  to  a  certain  and  to  a  not 
distant  victory. 


Number  y^ 
HOME   RULE   FOR   IRELAND 

William  Ewart  Gladstone.    Excerpt  from  a  speech  delivered  in  the 
House  of  Commons,   i886.    Hansard,  Parliamentary  Debates,  Series 
in,  Vol.  306,  pp.   1 237-1 240. 
For  the  author,  see  Number  69,  above. 

.  .  .  What  is  the  case  of  Ireland  at  this  moment .?  Have 
hon.  Gentlemen  considered  that  they  are  coming  into  con- 
flict with  a  nation  ">  Can  anything  stop  a  nation's  demand, 
except  its  being  proved  to  be  immoderate  and  unsafe  1  But 
here  are  multitudes,  and,  I  believe,  millions  upon  millions, 
out-of-doors,  who  feel  this  demand  to  be  neither  immoderate 
nor  unsafe.    In  our  opinion,  there  is  but  one  question  before 

1  May  an  avenger  arise  from  our  ashes !  (^En.  IV,  625). 


HOME  RULE  FOR  IRELAND  443 

us  about  this  demand.  It  is  as  to  the  time  and  circumstance 
of  granting  it.  There  is  no  question  in  our  minds  that  it  will 
be  granted.  We  wish  it  to  be  granted  in  the  mode  prescribed 
by  Mr.  l^urke.  Mr.  Burke  said,  in  his  first  speech  at  Bristol 
—  "I  was  true  to  my  old-standing  invariable  principle,  that 
all  things  which  came  from  Great  Ikitain  should  issue  as 
a  gift  of  her  bounty  and  beneficence  rather  than  as  claims 
recovered  against  struggling  litigants,  or  at  least,  if  your 
beneficence  obtained  no  credit  in  your  concessions,  yet  that 
they  should  appear  the  salutary  provisions  of  your  wisdom 
and  foresight  —  not  as  things  wrung  from  you  with  your 
blood  by  the  cruel  gripe  of  a  rigid  necessity."  The  differ- 
ence between  giving  with  freedom  and  dignity  on  the  one 
side,  with  acknowledgment  and  gratitude  on  the  other,  and 
giving  under  compulsion  —  giving  with  disgrace,  giving  with 
resentment  dogging  you  at  every  step  of  )'our  path  —  this 
difference  is,  in  our  eyes,  fundamental,  and  this  is  the 
main  reason  not  only  why  we  have  acted,  but  why  we  have 
acted  now.  This,  if  I  understand  it,  is  one  of  the  golden 
moments  of  our  history  —  one  of  those  opportunities  which 
may  come  and  may  go,  but  which  rarely  return,  or,  if  they  re- 
turn, return  at  long  intervals,  and  under  circumstances  which 
no  man  can  forecast.  There  have  been  such  golden  moments 
even  in  the  tragic  history  of  Ireland,  as  her  poet  says  — 

"  One  time  the  harp  of  Innisfail 
Was  tuned  to  notes  of  gladness." 

And  then  he  goes  on  to  say  — 

"  But  yet  did  oftener  tell  a  tale 
Of  more  prevailing  sadness." 

But  there  was  such  a  golden  moment  —  it  was  in  1 795  —  it  was 
on  the  mission  of  Lord  F'itzwilliam.  At  that  moment  it  is  his- 
torically clear  that  the  Parliament  of  Grattan  was  on  the  point 


444  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

of  solving  the  Irish  problem.  The  two  great  knots  of  that  prob- 
lem were  —  in  the  first  place,  Roman  Catholic  Emancipation  ; 
and  in  the  second  place,  the  Reform  of  Parliament.  The  cup 
was  at  her  lips,  and  she  was  ready  to  drink  it,  when  the  hand  of 
England  rudely  and  ruthlessly  dashed  it  to  the  ground  in  obedi- 
ence to  the  wild  and  dangerous  intimations  of  an  Irish  faction. 

"  Ex  ill o  flu  ere  ac  retro  sublapsa  7-eferri 
Spes  DcDicuim.''''  ^ 

There  has  been  no  great  day  of  hope  for  Ireland,  no  day 
when  you  might  hope  completely  and  definitely  to  end  the 
controversy  till  now  —  more  than  90  years.  The  long  periodic 
time  has  at  last  run  out,  and  the  star  has  again  mounted  into 
the  heavens.  What  Ireland  was  doing  for  herself  in  1795  we 
at  length  have  done.  The  Roman  Catholics  have  been  eman- 
cipated —  emancipated  after  a  woeful  disregard  of  solemn 
promises  through  29  years,  emancipated  slowly,  sullenly,  not 
from  goodwill,  but  from  abject  terror,  with  all  the  fruits  and 
consequences  which  will  always  follow  that  method  of  legis- 
lation. The  second  problem  has  been  also  solved,  and  the 
representation  of  Ireland  has  been  thoroughly  reformed  ;  and 
I  am  thankful  to  say  that  the  franchise  was  given  to  Ireland 
on  the  re-adjustment  of  last  year  with  a  free  heart,  with  an 
open  hand,  and  the  gift  of  that  franchise  was  the  last  act  re- 
quired to  make  the  success  of  Ireland  in  her  final  effort  abso- 
lutely sure.  We  have  given  Ireland  a  voice  :  we  must  all 
listen  for  a  moment  to  what  she  says.  We  must  all  listen  — 
both  sides,  both  Parties,  I  mean  as  they  are,  divided  on  this 
question  —  divided,  I  am  afraid,  by  an  almost  immeasurable 
gap.  We  do  not  undervalue  or  despise  the  forces  opposed  to 
us.  I  have  described  them  as  the  forces  of  class  and  its  depend- 
ents ;  and  that  as  a  general  description  —  as  a  slight  and  rude 

1  From  that  day  the  hope  of  the  Greeks  began  to  ebb  and  to  be  borne  away 
(/En.  II,  169). 


HOME  RULE  FOR   IRELAND  445 

outline  of  a  description  —  is,  I  believe,  perfectly  true.  I  do  not 
deny  that  many  are  against  us  whom  we  should  have  expected 
to  be  for  us.  I  do  not  deny  that  some  whom  we  see  against  us 
have  caused  us  by  their  conscientious  action  the  bitterest  dis- 
appointment. You  have  power,  you  have  wealth,  you  have  rank, 
you  have  station,  \ou  have  organization.  What  have  w-e  ?  We 
think  that  we  have  the  people's  heart ;  we  believe  and  we 
know  we  have  the  promise  of  the  harvest  of  the  future.  As 
to  the  people's  heart,  you  may  dispute  it,  and  dispute  it  with 
perfect  sincerity.  Let  that  matter  make  its  own  proof.  As 
to  the  harvest  of  the  future,  I  doubt  if  you  have  so  much 
confidence,  and  I  believe  that  there  is  in  the  breast  of  many 
a  man  who  means  to  vote  against  us  tonight  a  profound  mis- 
giving, approaching  even  to  a  deep  conviction,  that  the  end 
will  be  as  we  foresee,  and  not  as  }'0u  do  —  that  the  ebbing 
tide  is  with  you  and  the  flowing  tide  is  with  us.  Ireland 
stands  at  your  bar  expectant,  hopeful,  almost  suppliant.  Her 
words  are  the  words  of  truth  and  soberness.  She  asks  a 
blessed  oblivion  of  the  past,  and  in  that  oblivion  our  interest 
is  deeper  than  even  hers.  My  right  hon.  Friend  the  Member 
for  East  Edinburgh  asks  us  to-night  to  abide  by  the  traditions 
of  which  we  are  the  heirs.  What  traditions  ?  By  the  Irish  tra- 
ditions .''  Go  into  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  world,  ransack 
the  literature  of  all  countries,  find,  if  you  can,  a  single  voice,  a 
single  book,  ...  in  which  the  conduct  of  England  towards  Ire- 
land  is  anywhere  treated  except  with  profound  and  bitter  con- 
demnation. Are  these  the  traditions  by  which  we  are  exhorted 
to  stand  ?  No ;  they  are  a  sad  exception  to  the  glory  of  our  coun- 
tr}^  They  are  a  broad  and  black  blot  upon  the  pages  of  its  his- 
tory ;  and  what  we  want  to  do  is  to  stand  by  the  traditions  of 
which  we  are  the  heirs  in  all  matters  except  our  relations  with 
Ireland,  and  to  make  our  relations  with  Ireland  conform  to  the 
other  traditions  of  our  countn'.    So  we  treat  our  traditions  — 


446  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

so  we  hail  the  demand  of  Ireland  for  what  I  call  a  blessed 
oblivion  of  the  past.  She  seeks  also  a  boon  for  the  future ; 
and  that  boon  for  the  future,  unless  we  are  much  mistaken, 
will  be  a  boon  to  us  in  respect  of  honour,  no  less  than  a  boon 
to  her  in  respect  of  happiness,  prosperity,  and  peace.  Such, 
sir,  is  her  prayer.  Think,  I  beseech  you ;  think  well,  think 
wisely ;  think,  not  for  the  moment,  but  for  the  years  that  are 
to  come,  before  you  reject  this  bill. 

Number  / 5 
ASQUITH  AND  LLOYD-GEORGE 

Sydney   Brooks,    "  Some     English     Statesmen."    iMcClnrc's    Magazine, 
June,   191 1,  pp.  123-126,  130-135. 

In  any  review  of  the  men  who  are  piloting  England  through 
her  present  unexampled  difficulties,  it  is  inevitable  that  one 
should  begin  with  the  Prime  Minister.  But  I  must  own  to 
a  certain  diffidence  in  doing  so.  I  do  not  know  Mr.  Asquith  ; 
I  have  never  exchanged  a  word  with  him.  I  have,  however, 
heard  and  read  a  great  many  of  his  speeches  ;  I  have  watched 
his  career  pretty  closely  from  the  time  he  was  introduced 
into  public  life  as  one  of  Mr.  Gladstone's  discoveries  ;  I  have 
constantly  sat  above  him  in  the  House  of  Commons  ;  and  I 
have  been  moderately  well  placed  for  finding  out  what  the 
average  man,  in  and  out  of  Parliament,  says  and  thinks  of 
him.  The  real  Mr.  Asquith  may,  of  course,  be  very  different 
from  my  outside  estimate  of  him  —  one  sees  inevitably  only 
the  worst  side  of  a  public  man  in  public.  But,  such  as  it  is, 
it  is  at  least  unprejudiced  and  independent. 

Asquith  is  one  of  those  men  whose  successes  never  sur- 
prise those  who  know  them  best.  From  the  moment  he 
entered  his  teens,  he  has  been  not  merely  distinguished,  but 


ASQUITII  AM)  LLU\  IJ-GEORGE  447 

supreme  among  his  contemporaries.  As  a  boy  he  took  all 
the  school  prizes.  As  a  youth  he  won  the  blue  riband  of 
classical  scholarship,  the  Balliol,  became  president  of  the 
Oxford  Union,  —  the  famous  debating  society  of  the  Univer- 
sity,—  took  a  "double  first,"  carried  off  the  Craven  scholar- 
ship, and  -so  impressed  his  professors  and  fellow  graduates, 
from  Dr.  Jowett  downwards,  that  perhaps  no  man  ever  left 
Oxford  amid  so  many  or  such  confident  predictions  of  a 
brilliant  future. 

He  matured  early,  and  a  character  sketch  of  him  in  those 
Oxford  years  would  probably  need  little  modification  in  detail 
and  none  at  all  in  essentials  to-day.  A  companionable  youth 
among  his  chosen  associates,  but  at  no  pains  to  be  popular 
or  ingratiating  outside  his  own  circle  ;  a  hard  reader,  and 
nothing  of  an  athlete,  with  few  recreations  beyond  whist, 
chess,  and  talk  ;  a  lucid,  confident,  somewhat  arrogant,  but 
undeniably  effective  debater  at  the  Union  ;  one  whom  a  few 
swore  by  and  many,  perhaps,  were  more  inclined  to  swear  at, 
but  of  whose  ability,  directness,  strength  of  character,  and 
dry,  triumphant  adequacy  there  could  be  no  question  — 
such  was  Asquith  thirty-five  years  ago,  and  such,  in  the  fun- 
damentals of  mind  and  temperament,  he  remains  to-day. 

Asquith  has  made  his  own  way  in  life.  A  Yorkshireman 
of  Puritan  stock,  born  in  moderate  circumstances,  he  started 
out  with  none  of  those  advantages  of  family  influences  and 
connections  and  high  social  position  that  in  England,  more 
perhaps  than  in  any  other  countr)',  smooth  the  path  of  pro- 
fessional and  political  ambition.  He  had  his  full  share  of  the 
ordinary  anxieties  and  difficulties  of  the  briefless  barrister, 
and  he  alleviated  them,  as  do  most  briefless  barristers,  by 
journalism  and  lecturing.  It  was  during  this  period  of  trial 
and  uncertainty,  when  he  was  still  only  five-and-twenty,  with 
his  career  all  to  make,  that  he  took  a  step  which  the  Asquith 


448  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

of  the  popular  imagination  —  the  somewhat  hard,  self-centred 
embodiment  of  the  sterner  efficiencies  —  would  never  have 
taken  :  he  married.  One  has  to  remember  that.  One  has  to 
remember  also  that  years  afterwards  he  sought  and  won,  as 
his  second  wife.  Miss  Margot  Tennant,  perhaps  the  most 
brilliant  and  the  keenest-witted  woman  in  the  British  Isles. 
And,  further,  one  must  bear  in  mind  all  the  reports  that  reach 
one  of  his  staunchness  as  a  friend,  his  pride  in  the  achieve- 
ments of  his  gifted  son,  his  sociability  and  considerateness 
as  a  host  and  companion.  Asquith,  after  all,  is  human.  That 
softer,  warmer,  more  emotional  side  of  him  is  not  non-existent 
merely  because  the  outer  world  is  rarely,  if  ever,  allowed 

to  see  it. 

It  is  a  quarter  of  a  century  since  Mr.  Asquith,  at  the  age 
of  thirty-four,  entered  Parliament.  The  British  House  of 
Commons,  unlike  the  American  House  of  Representatives, 
does  not  as  a  rule  take  kindly  to  lawyers,  but  Asquith  gained 
its  ear  at  once.  It  was  not,  however,  as  a  politician,  but  as 
an  advocate,  that  he  first  became  something  of  a  national 
figure.  He  unsuccessfully  but  very  ably  defended  John  Burns 
when  he  was  arrested  in  connection  with  the  Trafalgar  Square 
riots  of  1887  — the  same  John  Burns  who  is  now  President 
of  the  Local  Government  Board  in  the  Cabinet  of  which 
Mr.  Asquith  is  the  official  head.  Two  years  later  the  famous 
Parnell  Commission  gave  him  his  great  chance.  It  fell  to 
Mr.  Asquith  to  cross-examine  Mr.  Macdonald,  the  manager  of 
the  Times.  He  did  so  with  a  masterly,  merciless  completeness 
that  caught  the  popular  fancy,  was  highly  approved  of  by 
the  profession,  and  put  Mr.  Asquith  among  the  first  flight 
of  English  lawyers.  From  that  moment  his  star  rose  rapidly. 
He  began  to  figure  in  all  the  great  cases,  in  society,  and  in 
Parliament.  Mr.  Gladstone  conceived  a  warm  regard  and 
admiration  for  his  qualities,  and  in  1892,  when  the  Liberals 


ASQUITH  AND   LLOVI  )-()E()RGK  449 

returned  to  power,  made  him  Home  Secretary.  He  proved 
himself  a  strong,  competent,  and  open-minded  administrator  ; 
he  met  and  solved  three  extremely  troublesome  questions  with 
a  firmness  that  lifted  him  at  once  altogether  out  of  the  ruck 
of  time-serving  politicians  ;  and  the  freshness  and  vigor  with 
which  he  stretched  his  official  powers  in  the  cause  of  social 
reform,  in  fighting  sweating  and  overcrowding,  and  in  protect- 
ing the  health  and  industrial  interests  of  the  working  classes, 
made  him  the  idol  of  Labor  and  penetrated  the  national  con- 
sciousness with  a  new  sense  of  its  social  responsibilities. 

In  1895,  when  the  Conservatives  came  back  into  office, 
Mr.  Asquith  returned  to  his  law  practice,  and  for  some  years 
afterwards  took  only  a  casual,  but  always  a  prominent,  part 
in  politics.  Throughout  the  Boer  War  he  ranged  himself  with 
the  Rosebery  group  of  Liberals,  and  steadily  supported  his 
political  opponents  in  a  cause  which  he  held  to  be  above 
party.  But  it  was  not,  I  think,  until  I\Ir.  Chamberlain,  in 
1903,  launched  his  fiscal  programme  that  the  country  took 
the  full  measure  of  Mr.  Asquith's  abilities.  The  controversy 
precisely  suited  his  trenchant,  lucid  style.  Eight  }'ears  ago  he 
was  one  of  the  very  few  Liberals  —  so  long  had  the  question 
slept,  so  little  did  any  one  expect  to  see  it  reopened  —  who 
really  knew  why  they  were  Free-Traders.  lie  at  once  took 
up  Mr.  Chamberlain's  challenge,  dogged  his  footsteps  from 
town  to  town,  and  answered  him  speech  for  speech  and  point 
for  point  until  it  almost  looked  as  if  the  issue  would  resolve 
itself  into  a  gladiatorial  combat  between  the  two  men. 

The  great  wave  that  in  1906  carried  the  Liberals  to  power 
in  unprecedented  force  landed  Mr.  Asquith  in  the  second 
highest  post  in  the  ministerial  hierarchy,  the  Chancellorship 
of  the  Exchequer.  Already  it  was  clear  that  he  was  a  predes- 
tined Premier.  Within  his  own  party  he  had  no  rival,  no  one 
who  united  as  he  did  the  range,  the  abilities,  and  the  kind  of 


450  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

hold  upon  the  people  that  are  essential  qualifications  for  the 
highest  office  of  all.  When  Sir  Henry  Campbell-Banner- 
man  early  in  1908  laid  down  the  reins,  King  Edward  merely 
interpreted  the  universal  expectation  of  the  party  and  the 
people  in  summoning  Mr.  Asquith  to  take  them  up.  For  the 
past  three  years,  through  two  general  elections  and  amid  a 
momentous  Constitutional  crisis,  he  has  guided  the  nation 
and  the  Empire  with  an  efficiency,  an  authority,  and  a  deter- 
mination that  have  stamped  him  as  one  of  the  foremost  of 
living  Englishmen. 

Asquith  has  in  an  abundant  degree  the  combative  qualities 
that  a  party  leader  must  have  to  be  successful.  He  is  a  first- 
class  fighting  man,  always  supremely  sure  of  himself,  never 
at  a  loss  for  an  effective  retort,  never  far  below  the  top  of  his 
form,  and  able  to  bring  all  his  guns  into  action  at  a  moment's 
notice.  For  pungency,  vigor,  concise  and  clean-cut  com- 
pression, and  a  wealth  of  sonorous  and  cogent  diction,  there 
is  nobody  in  the  House  of  Commons  to  equal  him.  However 
damaging  the  attack  upon  the  Government,  there  is  a  cheer 
of  perfect  confidence  from  the  Liberal  ranks  when  Asquith 
gets  up  to  answer  it.  The  stocky  figure  of  medium  height, 
the  strong,  clean-shaven,  fresh-complexioned  face  that  belies 
the  white  hair  above  it,  give  out  an  instant  impression  of 
assurance.  W'itli  few  gestures,  squarely  confronting  the 
Opposition,  the  Prime  Minister  begins  to  speak.  There  is  no 
appeal  to  passion  in  what  he  says,  no  loose  generalities,  no 
attempt  at  rhetoric,  nothing  subtle  or  bewildering.  The  sen- 
tences roll  out  with  a  hammer-like  precision  ;  the  points  made 
are  direct  and  unambiguous ;  the  argument  never  wanders ;  the 
humor  is  of  the  plain  knockdown  British  brand  ;  the  language 
is  massive  without  being  ornate  and  virile  without  being  over- 
strained ;  one  gets  the  effect  of  some  perfect  machine  produc- 
ing an  almost  effortless  fusillade  of  logical,  ordered  dialectics. 


ASQUITH   Ax\D   LLUVD-GEORGE  451 

I  have,  indeed,  known  Asquith  to  succeed,  by  a  speech 
of  pitiless,  piled-up  lucidity  and  compactness,  in  lashing  his 
party  into  an  enthusiasm  such  as  even  Mr.  Gladstone  could 
not  always  evoke.  But  the  enthusiasm  was  wholly  intellectual  ; 
the  cheers  were  for  the  achievement,  not  for  the  man.  For, 
while  his  speeches  in  their  way  are  models  of  what  public 
speaking  should  be,  they  are  not  oratory.  They  lack  the  tone 
and  color,  the  raptures  and  abandon  and  exaltations,  of  true 
oratory.  Mr.  Asquith  always  seems  to  know  almost  too  well 
just  what  he  is  going  to  say  and  how  he  is  going  to  say  it.  He 
never  appears  to  be  in  the  slightest  danger  of  being  carried 
out  of  himself.  One  could  imagine  him  speaking  equally  well 
to  no  audience  at  all,  or  to  an  audience  of  broomsticks. 
The  bloodless  rigidity  of  excellence  that  runs  through  all  his 
efforts  seems  to  be  independent  of  all  spiritual  communion 
between  the  speaker  and  those  whom  he  is  speaking  to. 

It  would  be,  perhaps,  unfair  to  say  that  the  party  of  all  the 
enthusiasms  is  led  by  the  man  with  none.  Mr,  Asquith 's 
Liberalism  is  not  only  a  strongly  held  and  closely  reasoned 
creed  :  it  is  also  an  instinct,  a  vital  part  of  the  man  himself, 
the  sincerity  of  which  is  beyond  question.  At  the  same  time, 
and  by  comparison  with  large  sections  of  his  party  and  with 
some  of  his  principal  lieutenants,  the  opinions,  the  manner, 
the  whole  bearing  and  attitude  of  the  man  have  an  air  of 
almost  piquant  moderation  and  restraint.  He  is  scrupulous 
of  the  dignities  and  traditions  of  his  high  office,  of  the  decencies 
and  amenities  of  Parliamentary  debate,  of  the  repute  and  de- 
corum of  public  life  ;  and  of  by  no  means  all  of  his  associates 
can  as  much  be  said.  However  much  they  may  differ  from  his 
views  and  policies,  all  Englishmen  are  as  one  in  feeling  that  the 
great  succession  of  British  Premiers  suffers  no  deterioration  in 
Mr.  Asquith,  and  that  his  manliness,  his  impeccable  honesty 
both  of  mind  and  character,  and  his  great  experience  of  affairs 


452  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

and  his  unfailing  competence  are  assets,  particularly  in  such 
critical  times  as  these,  of  the  first  value  to  the  State.  .  .  , 

.  .  .  [Mr.  Lloyd-George]  is  a  Welshman,  born  in  humble 
circumstances,  a  "  man  of  the  people  "  in  every  sense,  whose 
life  has  been  a  constant  and  triumphant  battle,  and  who  has 
picked  up  for  himself  such  knowledge  as  he  possesses  of  the 
things  that  no  amount  of  contact  with  life  can  teach.  Twenty- 
odd  years  ago  an  obscure  lawyer  in  a  small  Welsh  country 
town  ;  to-day  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer,  the  idol  of  his 
countrymen,  and  one  of  the  most  powerful,  in  some  ways  the 
most  powerful,  influence  in  British  public  life  —  the  bare  record 
of  his  career  from  the  village  green  to  Downing  Street  is 
enough  by  itself  to  arrest  one's  instantaneous  attention  and 
to  proclaim  a  man  far  removed  from  the  common  run. 

Though  of  old  yeoman  stock,  Mr,  Lloyd-George's  father 
was  for  most  of  his  life  a  school-master,  and  only  reverted  to 
the  soil  when  his  health  demanded  an  out-of-door  existence. 
Dying  while  still  a  young  man,  he  left  his  widow  and  two 
children  almost  wholly  unprovided  for,  and  Mr.  Lloyd- 
George's  earliest  recollection  is  of  his  home  and  furniture 
being  sold  up.  An  uncle,  who  was  a  shoemaker  and  unsal- 
aried Baptist  preacher  in  a  village  in  North  Wales,  took 
charge  of  the  family,  and  it  was  there,  in  a  district  saturated 
with  the  history  and  romance  of  the  country,  that  Lloyd- 
George  grew  up,  a  quick-witted,  high-spirited  lad,  disciplined 
by  severely  straitened  circumstances,  speaking  both  the 
Welsh  and  English  tongues,  and  an  eager  listener  at  the 
informal  parliament  of  neighbors  and  peasants  that  fore- 
gathered in  the  cobbler's  workshop,  there  to  discuss  theology 
and  politics,  —  they  go  together  in  Wales,  —  the  iniquities 
of  landlordism,  and  the  oppressiveness  of  a  social  system 
that  seemed  to  care  so  little  for  human  life  and  happiness 
and  so  much  for  property  and  game. 


ASQUITH  AM)   LLUVD-GEORGE  453 

Those  early  years  have  left  an  ineffaceable  mark  on  the 
Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer.  It  was  then  that  he  imbibed  a 
spirit  of  passionate  and  poetic  patriotism  for  Wales,  and  all 
that  Wales  contains  of  lonely  lake  and  mist-clad  mountain 
and  rushing  stream  and  ancient  haunts  of  chivalry  and 
romance.  It  was  then  that  there  was  implanted  in  him  a  fiery 
and  abiding  sense  of  compassion  for  the  disinherited,  the 
"  under  dog,"  the  millions  who  toil  and  ineffectively  murmur. 
The  iron  of  poverty  entered  into  his  soul,  not  to  corrode  it 
with  unavailing  bitterness,  but  to  sting  it  with  indignation  and 
revolt.  He  was  a  born  rebel.  He  is  a  rebel  still.  There  is 
perhaps  no  man  in  the  British  Isles  to  whom  the  smugness 
and  conventions,  the  appalling  contrasts  and  inequalities,  the 
buttressed  authorities  and  arrangements  of  life  in  Great 
Britain  are  more  absolutely  repugnant.  There  is  no  man  in 
whom  the  religion  of  humanity  is  more  incarnate. 

That  admirable  man,  the  shoemaker  uncle,  set  aside  the 
scanty  savings  of  a  lifetime  to  prepare  his  nephew  for  the  law, 
and  together  they  quarried  out  of  old  dictionaries  and  gram- 
mars and  text-books  the  knowledge  that  enabled  him  to  pass 
the  necessary  examinations.  At  sixteen  he  was  duly  articled 
to  a  firm  of  solicitors  ;  at  twenty-one  he  had  qualified  as  a 
solicitor  himself.  The  expense  had  completely  drained  his 
exchequer ;  he  had  not  even  the  fifteen  dollars  to  buy  the 
robes  without  which  he  could  not  practice  in  court.  But  suc- 
cess was  not  long  in  coming.  A  case  of  a  kind  peculiarly 
calculated  to  appeal  to  Welsh  sentiment — a  case  involving  the 
right  of  a  Nonconformist  to  be  buried  in  the  graveyard  of  a 
local  Episcopal  church  —  was  brought  to  him,  and  his  con- 
duct of  it  made  him  the  hero  of  the  neighborhood.  "  Should 
the  vicar,"  he  told  the  village,  "  refuse  to  open  the  gates, 
then  break  down  the  wall  which  your  subscriptions  have  built, 
force  your  way  into  the  churchyard,  reopen  the  grave,  and 


454 


READINGS  IX  ENGLISH  HISTORY 


bur)'  the  old  man  by  his  daughter."  The  advice  was  followed 
to  the  letter,  and  its  legality  was  confirmed  by  the  highest 
court  in  the  realm. 

In  a  few  years  Lloyd-George  had  built  up  one  of  the 
largest  practices  in  North  Wales.  But  the  law  never  engrossed 
him.  He  joined  debating  societies  ;  he  plunged  into  the 
movement  against  the  payment  of  tithes  ;  he  stumped  the 
countr)^side  on  behalf  of  land  reform  and  temperance  ;  and, 
when  the  County  Councils  came  into  being,  he  roused  the 
peasantry  to  shake  off  "  the  old  feudal  yoke  of  squirearchy," 
and  was  himself  elected  to  the  Council  of  Carnar\'onshire. 
A  new  Wales  was  born  in  the  stress  of  that  campaign.  The 
spirit  of  Welsh  nationalism  and  \\'elsh  democracy  awoke  once 
more  ;  the  old  order  of  things,  that  permitted  Wales  to  be  rep- 
resented in  the  Imperial  Parliament  by  landlords  and  commer- 
cial magnates  or  imported  carpet-baggers,  who  neither  spoke 
the  language  of  the  people  nor  had  the  wit  or  knowledge  to 
look  after  their  special  interests,  was  clearly  breaking  up,  and 
it  was  as  an  impassioned  advocate  of  Welsh  patriotism  and  the 
common  Welsh  people,  peasants  and  workingmen,  that  Mr. 
Lloyd-George  in  1 890  was  elected  to  the  House  of  Commons. 

It  is  too  much  to  say  that  Lloyd-George  has  made  a  nation. 
But  it  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  he  has  made  that  nation 
for  the  first  time  politically  effective  and  politically  conscious 
of  itself.  He  marshalled  the  Welsh  forces  in  Parliament  into 
a  single  whole,  and  led  them  with  a  vigor  and  brilliancy  not 
surpassed  by  Parnell.  He  pressed  forward  Welsh  claims 
and  rights  as  they  had  never  been  pressed  before  and  against 
both  the  chief  English  parties  in  turn  ;  he  withstood  even 
Gladstone  for  the  sake  of  Wales.  Could  he  have  had  his 
way,  a  Welsh  party,  absolutely  independent  of  any  English 
connections,  biased  in  favor  of  the  Liberals  but  b\'  no  means 
annexed  tcj  them,  would  have  been  evolved.    As  it  was,  he 


ASQUITII   AND  T.T^OVn-GEORGE  455 

passed  over  from  the  tributary  of  Welsh  nationahsm  to  the 
broader  stream  of  British  Liberahsm,  without,  however,  part- 
ing with  one  jot  of  his  locaHsed  patriotism.  "  Gallant  little 
Wales  "  has  in  him  the  gallantest  little  champion  she  has  yet 
produced.  On  all  questions  of  domestic  politics  his  voice  is 
the  voice  of  the  Principality.  He  is  as  Welsh  as  O'Connell  was 
Irish  —  more  so,  indeed,  because  he  speaks  the  native  tongue 
of  the  people.  One  would  have  to  go  back  to  the  days  of 
Owen  Glendower  to  discover  a  leader  who  has  won  to  an  equal 
degree  the  enthusiasm  that  Mr.  Lloyd-George  commands 
among  his  warm-hearted  and  impressionable  countrymen. 

It  took  but  a  few  years  for  Mr.  Lloyd-George  to  stamp 
himself  on  the  House  of  Commons  as  a  master  of  Parlia- 
mentary strateg)'  and  a  daring,  brilliant,  biting  swashbuckler 
of  debate,  the  only  man,  indeed,  on  the  Liberal  side  who 
could  stand  up  to  Joseph  Chamberlain  and  return  him  blow 
for  blow  undismayed.  He  had  from  the  first  the  three  indis- 
pensable qualifications  for  political  success  —  courage,  the 
incommunicable  gift  of  seizing  the  occasion  and  attracting 
notice,  and,  lastly,  an  unwearied  assiduity.  And  to  these 
attributes  he  added  a  pervasive  and  irrepressible  humor, 
passion,  sincerity,  the  legal  eye  for  a  weak  argument,  the 
legal  turn  for  fresh  and  luminous  exposition,  and  a  wholly 
Celtic  touch  of  idealism,  zealotry,  and  imagination. 

The  Boer  War  was  the  event  that  first  brought  him  into 
really  national  prominence.  He  made  himself  the  most  in- 
tensely hated  of  all  pro-Boers ;  he  was  mobbed  more  than  once ; 
it  was  only  by  desperate  shifts  that  on  one  occasion  he  escaped 
being  killed.  But  the  English  are  not  a  resentful  people,  and 
they  admire  courage.  When  they  think  to-day  of  the  war 
and  Mr.  Lloyd-George's  part  in  it,  they  think  of  a  man  who, 
however  misguided,  wrong-headed,  and  mischievous,  had  at 
an\-  rate  the  supreme  political  courage  to  stake  his  career  on 


456  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

his  conscience.  The  ordeal  of  those  exciting  years  did  much 
to  mature  his  powers,  and  hardly  had  the  war  ended  than 
the  Education  Bill  of  1902  gave  him  yet  ampler  scope  for 
pungent  attack.  As  a  Welshman  and  as  a  Nonconformist  it 
bitterly  offended  him,  and  he  threw  himself  upon  it  with  a 
dash  and  vehemence  that  thrilled  his  countrymen  with  some- 
thing of  the  fervor  of  a  religious  revival.  He  organised  the 
Principality  into  what  was  little  less  than  a  rebellion  against 
the  enforcement  of  the  Act.  When  the  Tariff  Reform 
movement  was  launched,  Mr.  Lloyd-George  found  another 
opportunity  to  hand.  He  shared  with  Mr.  Asquith  and  Mr. 
Winston  Churchill  the  distinction  of  being  the  most  effective 
and  sparkling  of  all  the  upholders  of  Free  Trade. 

That  was  the  close  of  the  first  stage  of  Lloyd-George's 
public  career.  The  second  opened  in  1906,  when,  on  the 
return  of  the  Liberals  to  power,  he  became  president  of 
the  Board  of  Trade.  There  were  many  who  gasped  when  the 
fiery  young  Welshman,  the  consummate  mob-orator  whose 
name  had  become  a  synonym  for  all  that  was  most  tumultu- 
ous in  politics,  was  entrusted  with  the  care  of  British  industr)' 
and  commerce.  His  appointment  was  the  last  appointment 
"the  City"  would  have  thought  of.  Yet  none  turned  out 
so  supremely  well.  Among  many  successful  Ministers,  he 
proved  the  most  successful.  In  two  years  he  raised  a  com- 
paratively minor  office  to  the  highest  level  of  prominence 
and  utilit)'.  He  averted  great  industrial  conflicts  ;  he  passed 
some  bold  and  beneficent  measures  ;  he  tackled  and  solved 
problems  that  his  predecessors  had  found  insoluble ;  he 
showed  himself  to  be  beyond  comparison  the  business  man 
of  the  Cabinet.  When  it  was  known  that  Mr.  Lloyd-George 
had  taken  up  a  question,  people  ceased  to  worry  about  it.  It 
grew  to  be  almost  an  article  of  faith  with  the  masses  and 
in  the  world  of  business,  that  he  could  not  fail. 


ASQUITH  AND  LLOYD-GEORGE  457 

From  the  presidency  of  the  Board  of  Trade  he  passed 
to  the  Chancellorship  of  the  Exchequer.  As  such  he  devised 
the  momentous  Budget  of  1909,  with  its  heavy  super-taxes, 
the  capture  of  part  of  the  "unearned  increment"  of  land, 
and  its  swinging  duties  on  licenses.  As  such  he  has  made 
himself  the  supreme  advocate  of  the  "  condition  of  the 
people  "  question  and  of  all  measures  of  social  reform.  As 
such,  too,  he  has  surpassed  all  his  colleagues  in  the  vehe- 
mence, almost  the  virulence,  of  his  attacks  upon  the  House 
of  Lords.  No  man  in  Great  Britain  has  anything  like  his 
following  among  the  masses,  or  his  power  of  handling  them 
to  the  utmost  limit  of  emotion. 

There  are  at  least  six  Lloyd-Georges.  There  is  the  Lloyd- 
George  who  lets  himself  go  among  his  beloved  Welsh  hills 
with  an  exuberance  of  poetic  and  half-mystical  declamation 
that  makes  the  ordinary  Englishman  mutter  something  about 
the  "  Celtic  temperament."  There  is  the  Lloyd-George,  the 
Cabinet  Minister,  persuasive,  polite,  sagacious,  pertinent,  and 
conciliatory.  There  is  the  Lloyd-George,  the  administrator, 
composing  disputes  partly  by  his  great  tact  and  experience, 
partly  by  his  almost  instantaneous  perception  of  what  is  essen- 
tial as  well  as  of  what  is  possible,  and  partly  by  the  reflex 
action  of  his  open  and  winning  personality  upon  those  with 
whom  he  is  dealing.  There  is  the  Lloyd-George  who  holds 
forth  upon  Liberalism  and  social  miseries  and  the  "  idle  rich  " 
with  restrained,  semi-religious  fervor.  And  there  is  the 
Lloyd-George,  the  often  vulgar,  the  often  ranting,  but  always 
conquering  demagogue,  who  plays  upon  vast  audiences  with 
the  touch  of  another  Clcon,  and  seems  to  care  as  little 
whether  the  points  he  makes  have  reason,  decency,  justice 
on  their  side,  so  long  as  they  are  effective.  \ 

And,  finally,  there  is  Lloyd-George  the  man,  the  warm- 
hearted, practical  idealist,  frank,  engaging,  and  generous,  as 


458  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

outspoken,  cheery,  and  approachable  to-day  as  when  he  was 
still  an  unknown  novice.  There  is  a  tremendous  air  of  life 
about  him.  He  has  something  of  Mr,  Roosevelt's  tingling 
alertness  and  far  more  than  the  ex-President's  stock  of  gen- 
iality. Though  he  always  hits  his  hardest,  he  is  utterly  destitute 
of  malice  and  pettiness.  He  belongs  altogether  to  the  democ- 
racy of  talent.  One  simply  cannot  imagine  him  "  putting  on 
side  "  or  cultivating  the  English  habit  of  "  condescension." 
No  man  is  so  little  hampered  by  formulae,  or  looks  facts 
straighter  in  the  face,  or  has  so  great  a  capacity  for  growth. 
Not  a  widely  read  man,  not  much  of  a  thinker,  he  makes  up 
for  all  deficiencies  of  culture  and  intellect  by  the  intensity  of 
his  feelings  and  a  sound,  hard-headed  instinct  for  practicality. 
The  glow  and  zest  and  responsiveness  of  his  nature,  his 
candid,  pouncing  mind,  the  wholesome  boyish  streak  that 
runs  through  all  he  says  and  does,  the  infectious  freshness 
of  his  talk  and  outlook,  his  whole  air  of  blithe  comradeship, 
combine  to  make  him,  if  not  the  greatest,  at  any  rate  the 
most  remarkable  personality  in  British  politics  to-day. 


THE  RESTRICTION  OF  THE  VE'l'O  POWER     459 

Number  yd 

THE  RESTRICTION  OF  THE  VETO  POWER  OF 
THE  HOUSE  OF  LORDS 

Herbert  II.  Asquith.    Excerpt  from  a  speech  delivered  in  the  House  of 
Commons,  March  28,  1910.   Hansard,  Ihr/iameniary  DedaUs,  Series  V, 
Vol.  15,  pp.  1 180-1 182. 
For  the  author,  see  Number  75,  above. 

I  am  sorry  to  have  detained  the  House  so  long  in  deahng 
with  the  details  of  these  Resolutions. ^  .  .  .  We  put  them 
forward  as  the  first  and  indispensable  step  to  the  emancipa- 
tion of  the  House  of  Commons,  and  to  rescue  from  something 
like  paralysis  the  principles  of  popular  government.  Further, 
we  put  them  forward  as  a  demand,  sanctioned  as  we  believe 
by  a  large  majority  of  the  representatives  of  the  people  chosen 
at  the  recent  General  Election,  themselves  representing  a 
large  majority  of  the  electorate.  Fundamental  changes  in 
this  country,  as  nothing  illustrates  more  clearly  than  this 
controversy,  are  slow  to  bring  into  effect.  There  was  a  story 
current  of  the  last  Parliament,  which  in  this  connection  bears 
repetition.  It  was  told  of  a  new  Member  of  the  then  House 
of  Commons  that  in  1906  he  witnessed  for  the  first  time  the 
ceremony  of  opening  Parliament.  He  saw  gathered  in  the 
other  Chamber  at  one  end  the  King  sitting  on  his  throne, 
at  the  other  end  Mr.  Speaker  standing  at  the  Bar.  In  be- 
tween there  was  that  scene  of  subdued  but  stately  splendour, 

1  These  resolutions  were  as  follows  : 

(i)  That  the  House  of  Lords  be  disabled  by  law  from  rejecting  or  amending  a  money  bill. 

(2)  That  the  power  of  the  House  of  Lords  over  other  bills  be  so  restricted  by  law  that  a 
bill  which  has  passed  the  House  of  Commons  at  two  successive  sessions,  and  has  been  rejected 
by  the  Lords  each  time,  shall  nevertheless  become  a  law  without  the  consent  of  the  Lords  on 
being  passed  by  the  Commons  at  a  third  session,  provided,  however,  that  two  years  shall  have 
passed  between  the  first  introduction  of  the  bill  and  its  final  passage. 

(3)  That  the  life  of  a  Parliament  shall  be  restricted  to  five  years,  instead  of  seven. 


46o  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

bringing  and  making  alive  to  the  eye  and  the  imagination 
the  unbroken  course  of  centuries  during  which  we  alone  here, 
of  all  the  peoples  of  the  world  have  been  able  to  reconcile  and 
harmonise  the  traditions  of  the  past,  the  needs  of  the  present, 
the  hopes  and  aspirations  of  the  future.  He  was  a  man  of 
very  advanced  views,  and  as  he  gazed  upon  that  unique  and 
impressive  spectacle,  felt  constrained  to  mutter  to  a  neighbour, 
a  man  of  like  opinions  with  himself,  "  This  will  take  a  lot 
of  abolishing."  So  it  will.  It  was  a  very  shrewd  observation. 
But  I  am  not  sure  that  he  had  mastered  the  real  lesson  of 
the  occasion.  So  far  as  outward  vision  goes,  one  would  seem, 
no  doubt,  in  the  presence  of  such  a  ceremony  as  that,  to 
be  transplanted  to  the  days  of  the  Plantagenets.  The  frame- 
work is  the  same  ;  the  setting  is  almost  the  same.  The  very 
figures  of  the  picture  —  King,  Peers,  Judges,  Commons  — 
are  the  same,  at  any  rate,  in  name.  But  that  external  and 
superficial  identity  masks  a  series  of  the  greatest  transfor- 
mations that  have  been  recorded  in  the  constitutional  expe- 
rience of  mankind.  The  Sovereign  sits  there  on  the  Throne 
of  Queen  Elizabeth,  who,  as  history  tells  us,  on  one  occasion 
at  the  end  of  a  single  Session,  opposed  the  Royal  Veto  to  no 
less  than  forty-eight  out  of  ninety-one  Bills  which  had  received 
the  assent  of  both  Houses  of  Parliament.  That  Royal  Veto, 
then  and  for  long  afterwards,  an  active  and  potent  enemy  of 
popular  rights,  is  literally  as  dead  as  Queen  Anne.  Yes,  Sir ; 
and  has  the  Monarchy  suffered  ?  Has  the  Monarchy  suffered  ? 
There  is  not  a  man  among  us,  in  whatever  quarter  of  this 
House  he  sits,  who  does  not  know  the  Crown  of  this  Realm, 
with  its  hereditary  succession,  its  Prerogatives  adjusted  from 
generation  to  generation  to  the  needs  of  the  people  and  the 
calls  of  the  Empire,  is  held  by  our  Gracious  Sovereign  by  a 
far  securer  tenure  than  ever  fell  to  the  lot  of  any  of  his  Tudor 
or  Stuart  ancestors.    The  liberties  again  of  the  Commons, 


THE  ENGLISH   REVOLUTION   OF   1911         46 1 

which  you,  Sir,  only  a  month  ago  once  more  claimed  and  as- 
serted at  the  same  Bar,  in  time-honoured  phrases  which  carry 
us  back  to  the  days  when  those  liberties  were  in  jeopardy 
from  the  Crown  —  the  liberties  of  the  Commons,  slowly  and 
patiently  won,  in  these  days  newly  threatened  and  invaded  — 
not,  indeed,  through  the  Crown,  but  from  another  quarter  — 
are  only  in  danger,  if,  unlike  our  forefathers  here,  we  refuse 
to  take  the  necessary  steps  to  make  them  safe.  But  there  is 
one  factor  in  the  Constitution  which,  while  ever}thing  else 
has  changed,  remains,  sterilised  in  its  development,  possess- 
ing and  exercising  power  without  authority,  still  a  standing 
menace  and  obstacle  to  progressive  legislation  and  popular 
government.  The  absolute  Veto  of  the  Lords  must  follow 
the  Veto  of  the  Crown  before  the  road  can  be  clear  for  the 
advent  of  full-grown  and  unfettered  democracy. 


Number  yy 
THE   ENGLLSH    REVOLUTION   OF   1911 

Editorial  in  The  Outlook,  August  26,  191 1. 

The  enactment  into  law  of  the  bill  curtailing  the  veto 
power  of  the  British  House  of  Lords  is  the  culmination  of 
a  historical  movement.  It  is  not  the  arbitrar)'  act  of  a  par- 
tisan majority,  nor  the  fruit  of  a  reckless  impulse  of  a  band 
of  revolutionary  agitators.  It  marks  a  stage  in  the  develop- 
ment, which  has  been  going  on  for  a  thousand  years,  of  the 
British  Constitution.  It  was  rendered  inevitable,  not  by  the 
partisan  exasperation  of  the  Liberals,  nor  by  the  Socialistic 
desires  of  the  Laborites,  nor  even  by  the  hunger  for  Home 
Rule  of  the  Irish  Nationalists,  but  by  the  irresistible  force  of  an 
evolutionary  process.    The  seeds  of  the  tree  from  which  the 


462  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

peers  have  just  gathered  bitter  fruit  were  sown,  not  in  1909, 
when  the  Lloyd-George  Budget  was  rejected,  but  in  1832, 
when  Reform  was  carried  over  the  prostrate  will  of  the  House 
of  Lords. 

Among  the  most  interesting  items  in  that  somewhat  incho- 
ate but  tremendously  effective  mass  of  charters,  statutes,  cus- 
toms, precedents,  traditions,  and  conventions  which  make  up 
the  British  Constitution  are  certain  solemn  fictions.  These 
fictions  may  once  have  been  the  truth,  but  now,  through  the 
process  of  evolution,  they  have  come  to  be  mere  masks  upon 
the  face  of  the  universally  accepted  facts.  So  long  as  the 
constitutional  fiction  is  recognized,  and  no  one  acts  as  if  the 
fiction  were  the  fact,  all  is  well.  But  when  it  is  attempted 
to  ignore  the  fact  and  translate  the  fiction  into  reality,  the 
nation  resents  the  attempt. 

It  is  one  of  these  solemn  fictions  that  the  British  Parlia- 
ment is  composed  of  two  co-ordinate  branches  with  equal 
powers  over  general  legislation  ;  but  it  has  been  universally 
recognized  by  the  constitutional  authorities  of  the  past  fifty 
years  —  and  incidentally  by  the  British  people  —  that  the  fact 
is  altogether  different.  The  fact  is  that  the  only  legitimate 
functions  of  the  British  House  of  Lords  in  relation  to  legis- 
lation are  those  of  revision,  amendment,  and  delay.  And  it 
is  only  when  the  House  of  Lords  has  tried  to  expand  these 
functions  into  powers  co-ordinate  with  those  of  the  House 
of  Commons  that  its  prerogatives  have  been  attacked. 

In  1832  the  House  of  Commons,  supported  by  the  elec- 
torate, was  determined  upon  the  passage  of  the  Reform  Bill. 
The  House  of  Lords,  jealous  of  its  control  through  rotten 
boroughs  and  pocket  constituencies  of  many  seats  in  the 
lower  house,  resisted  the  passage  of  the  bill.  The  royal  pre- 
rogative was  invoked  on  the  side  of  the  popular  house,  and 
the  Lords  receded  before  the  threat  of  "  swamping  "  their 


THE  ENGLISH    RKXOLL'TION  OF   1911  46 


'> 


Chamber  with  new  peers.  In  1884  the  majority  in  the  Com- 
mons, supported  by  the  majority  in  the  country,  were  deter- 
mined upon  an  extension  of  the  franchise.  Again  the  Lords 
opposed,  until  the  efforts  of  a  diplomatic  Queen  and  a  wise 
Prime  Minister  brought  them  to  reason.  At  that  crisis  Mr. 
Gladstone,  in  a  confidential  message  to  the  Queen,  declared 
that  if  the  measure  were  rejected  by  the  Lords  a  second  time, 
only  two  courses  would  remain  open  to  him  :  one  to  leave 
public  life,  the  other  "  to  become  a  supporter  of  organic 
change  in  the  House  of  Lords."  Two  years  later  the  Home 
Rule  Bill  was  rejected  by  the  upper  chamber,  as  well  as  an- 
other important  Government  measure  ;  and  in  his  last  speech 
to  the  House  of  Commons,  after  sixty-one  years  of  service 
there,  Mr.  Gladstone  said  :  "  The  differences,  not  of  a  tem- 
porar)'  or  casual  nature  merely,  but  differences  of  conviction, 
differences  of  prepossession,  differences  of  mental  habit,  and 
differences  of  fundamental  tendency,  between  the  House  of 
Lords  and  the  House  of  Commons,  appear  to  have  reached 
a  development  in  the  present  year  such  as  to  create  a  state 
of  things  of  which  we  are  compelled  to  say  that,  in  our  judg- 
ment, it  cannot  continue." 

In  1906  the  Education  Bill  was  rejected  by  the  House  of 
Lords,  and  the  Prime  Minister,  Sir  Henry  Campbell-Banner- 
man,  declared  :  "  The  resources  of  the  British  Constitution 
are  not  wholly  exhausted.  The  resources  of  the  House  of 
Commons  are  not  exhausted.  I  say  with  conviction  that  a 
wav  must  be  found,  that  a  way  will  be  found,  b)-  which  the 
will  of  the  people  expressed  through  their  elected  representa- 
tives in  this  House  will  be  made  to  prevail."  The  next  year 
a  resolution  was  adopted  in  the  House  of  Commons,  by  a 
vote  of  430  to  147,  declaring,  "that  in  order  to  give  effect 
to  the  will  of  the  people,  as  expressed  by  their  elected  rep- 
resentatives, it  is  necessary  that  the  power  of  the  other  House 


464 


READINGS  IN  ENGLISH   HISTORY 


of  altering  or  rejecting  bills  passed  by  this  House  shall  be  so 
restricted  by  law  as  to  secure  that  within  the  limits  of  a  single 
Parliament  the  final  decision  of  the  Commons  shall  prevail." 
In  the  fall  of  1909  the  Lloyd-George  Budget  ^  was  rejected  by 
the  House  of  Lords.  It  was  the  last  straw,  and  immediately  the 
active  campaign  for  the  curtailment  of  the  Lords'  veto  was  be- 
gun. It  was  carried  on  through  two  general  elections,  and  to  a 
successful  ending  .  .  .  when  the  Parliament  Bill  ^  became  law. 

1  The  Budget  is  the  annual  financial  statement  prepared  by  the  Chancellor  of  the 
Exchequer.  It  is  not  only  an  estimate  of  the  expenses  for  the  coming  year  but  indi- 
cates the  kind  of  taxes  the  party  in  power  proposes  to  levy  to  raise  the  necessary 
amount.  David  Lloyd-CJeorge,  as  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer,  was  responsible  for 
the  Budget  of  the  Liberal  party  in  1909.  The  chief  items  of  this  famous  Budget 
were  :  first,  a  tax  on  incomes,  particularly  heavy  on  incomes  over  £s°°°  ^"^  o"  ^'^ 
unearned  incomes ;  second,  a  tax  on  inheritances,  so  applied  that  the  larger  the  in- 
heritance the  larger  the  tax,  running  up  to  157c  and  over  for  inheritance  $1,000,000 
or  more ;  third,  a  new  tax  on  land,  commonly  called  a  tax  on  the  unearned  incre- 
ment, by  which  is  meant  that  any  increase  in  the  value  of  land  due  in  no  respect  to 
the  labor  of  the  owner,  but  to  natural  causes,  such  as  the  growth  of  population  near 
it,  belongs,  not  to  the  owner  but  to  the  people.  It  was  but  natural  that  the  Lords, 
representatives  of  the  privileged  and  landlord  classes,  should  assail  furiously  this 
Budget  and  the  man  behind  it,  for  it  aimed  directly  at  their  special  interests.  Chan- 
cellor Lloyd-Cieorge  told  the  British  people  that  ''  A  Duke  was  more  expensive  than 
a  Dreadnaught " ;  and  he  looked  forward  '"  toward  the  time  when  poverty  with  its 
wretchedness  and  squalor  will  be  as  remote  from  the  people  of  this  country  as  the 
wolves  which  once  infested  the  forests." 

2  [The  Parliament  Bill]  extinguishes  the  powers  of  the  House  of  Lords  in  the 
matter  of  finance  ;  it  makes  it  impossible  for  the  peers  ever  again  to  act  as  they  acted 
in  November,  1909,  when  they  rejected  the  Budget,  and,  by  rejecting  it,  brought  the 
Government  to  a  standstill  and  compelled  a  dissolution  ;  it  decrees  that  henceforward 
any  money  bill  which  is  certified  by  the  Speaker  to  be  nothing  but  a  money  bill  — 
that  is,  to  contain  no  non-financial  matter  —  shall  be  passed  by  the  House  of  Lords 
without  amendment  and  within  a  month  after  its  introduction  in  the  upper  chamber, 
and,  failing  such  passage,  shall  be  presented  to  his  Majesty  and  become  an  act  of 
Parliament  on  the  royal  assent  being  signified.  Secondly,  the  bill  provides  that  any 
measure  ("other  than  a  money  bill")  which  has  passed  the  House  of  Commons  in 
three  successive  sessions  and  has  been  rejected  by  the  House  of  Lords  in  each  of 
those  sessions  shall  become  law  on  receiving  the  royal  assent,  provided  that  two  years 
have  elapsed  between  its  second  reading  in  the  House  of  Commons  and  its  third  and 
final  passage.  In  other  words,  the  power  of  the  House  of  Lords  over  ordinary  legis- 
lation is  henceforward  limited  to  criticism,  amendment,  and  delay.  It  may  discuss  a 
measure ;  it  may  propose  alterations  in  its  clauses,  and  the  alterations  may  be  ac- 
cepted by  the  Government  and  embodied  in  the  measure  ;  it  may  postpone  its  pas- 
sage for  two  years  ;  but  it  cannot  definitely  throw  it  out  or  refer  it  to  the  judgment 


THE  KNGT.ISII   REVOLri'IOX   OF   1911  465 

At  each  (;f  these  juncLures  the  House  of  Lords  has  for- 
gotten that  its  equahty  of  power  with  the  House  of  Commons 
is  a  fiction,  and  has  acted  as  if  it  were  a  fact.  It  was  impos- 
sible that  the  spirit  of  the  British  Constitution  —  a  spirit  of 
real  democracy  and  popular  rule  —  should  countenance  equal- 
ity between  a  chamber  of  elected  representatives  of  the  people, 
of  popular  rights,  and  of  both  political  parties,  and  a  chamber 
of  hereditary  representatives  of  a  social  class,  of  the  rights  of 
property,  and  of  a  single  political  party.  When  such  an  equal- 
ity had,  time  after  time,  been  assumed,  it  was  inevitable  either 
that  the  power  of  the  second  chamber  should  be  curtailed, 
or  that  its  composition  should  be  altered.  The  course  of 
events  led  logically  to  the  first  result ;  and  it  was  evolution, 
not  revolution,  which  brought  it  about. 

.  .  .  The  purpose  of  the  movement  which  culminated 
in  the  Parliament  Bill  was  to  secure  equality  of  legislative 
opportunity  for  both  great  political  parties,  to  remove  from 
the  pathway  of  a  Liberal  Government  and  a  Liberal  majority 
in  the  House  of  Commons  that  insuperable  obstacle,  in  the 
shape  of  a  permanently  Conservative  House  of  Lords,  which 
had  repeatedly  blocked  its  most  important  legislation.  This 
could  be  accomplished  by  curtailing  the  Lords'  veto.   .   .   . 

The  victory  of  the  Government,  and  the  means  by  which 
it  was  brought  about,  are  significant  of  the  distance  which  the 
British  P^mpire  has  come  along  the  road  of  popular  govern- 
ment.   A  first  step  was  taken  in  1832,  when  the  House  of 

of  the  electorate  ;  when  the  two  years  have  gone  by,  it  automatically  becomes  law. 
Thirdly,  the  bill  reduces  the  duration  of  Parliament  from  seven  years  to  five.  But, 
besides  all  this,  the  bill  contains  a  preamble,  and  the  preamble  refers  to  the  intention 
of  the  Government  to  substitute  for  the  House  of  Lords  as  it  at  present  exists  ''  a 
second  chamber  constituted  on  a  popular  instead  of  hereditary  basis."  Mr.  Asquith 
has  more  than  once  reaffirmed  this  intention  and  has  declared  that  his  Government 
regards  it  as  an  obligation,  "  if  time  permits,"  to  propose  a  scheme  for  reconstituting 
the  House  of  Lords  within  the  lifetime  of  the  present  Parliament.  —  "The  Peers 
and  the  People"  by  Sidney  Brooks.    The  Outlook,  August  26,  191 1. 


466  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

Commons,  until  then  a  chamber  whose  membership  was 
largely  controlled  by  members  of  the  House  of  Lords,  was 
made  representative  of  the  constituencies.  A  second  step 
was  taken  in  1884,  when  the  constituencies  were  made  rep- 
resentative of  the  people.  These  two  steps  completed  the 
process  by  which  the  House  of  Commons  was  made  a  truly 
representative  body.  A  third  step  was  taken  in  1 9 1 1 ,  when 
the  Throne,  in  the  contest  between  the  Commons  and  the 
Lords,  placed  its  prerogative  definitely  on  the  popular  side. 
The  principle  is  established  that  the  Commons  and  the  Crown 
both  represent  the  people.  The  next  step  is  to  make  the 
second  chamber  represent  the  people.  The  nearness  of  that 
step  is  indicated  by  the  fact  that  the  only  claim  made  by  the 
Lords  in  the  later  stages  of  the  recent  campaign  was  of  a 
right  to  suspend  legislation  until  the  people  had  had  an  op- 
portunity to  pass  upon  it,  and  the  added  fact  that  with  the 
Conservative  plan  for  the  reform  of  the  House  of  Lords  was 
coupled  a  provision  that  conflicts  between  the  two  houses 
should  be  settled  by  the  referendum. 

The  British  nation  is  fond  of  settling  questions  "by  con- 
sent." The  two  great  political  parties  in  this  controversy  have 
"  consented  "  on  the  essential  —  ultimate  popular  mle.  They 
are  divided  only  upon  the  method.  The  method  which  one 
party  has  succeeded  in  introducing  may  not  prove  the  final 
solution,  but  the  final  solution,  whatever  it  may  be,  can  have 
no  other  purpose. 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  PARLIAMENT  467 

Numbei''  yS 

IMPRESSIONS   OF  PARLIAMENT 

Thomas  Francis  Moran.    77ie  Theory  ami  Practice  of  the  English   Gov  ■ 
ernment}  pp.  337-351. /«"''«• 

That  famous  legislative  body  which  Carlyle  sarcastically 
termed,  "  The  great  talking  shop  at  Westminster,"  has  a 
peculiar  interest  for  American  travellers  in  Europe.  The 
English  Parliament  is  in  itself  an  important  body,  repre- 
senting as  it  does  one  of  the  greatest  of  the  modern  world 
powers  ;  but  it  possesses  a  peculiar  attraction  for  the  Ameri- 
can tourist,  since  his  institutions  are  of  English  origin  and 
are  still  strikingly  similar  in  man\-  respects  to  those  of  the 
mother  country.  Few  Americans,  then,  will  fail,  if  oppor- 
tunity offers,  to  look  in  upon  that  great  legislative  body 
which  represents  not  only  the  Witan  of  Anglo-Saxon  times, 
but  also  the  original  House  of  Commons  established  by 
Simon  de  Montfort  in  1265.  The  histor)^  of  the  English  Par- 
liament, its  present  importance,  and  its  kinship  to  our  insti- 
tutions invest  it  with  a  peculiar  interest  from  the  American 
standpoint.   .  ,   . 

The  visitor  will  usually  go  to  the  House  of  Commons  first, 
and  to  the  House  of  Lords  later,  if  at  all.  The  House  of 
Commons  is  now  the  real  governing  power  in  P^ngland. 
The  power  of  the  Crown  has  practically  vanished,  and  that 
of  the  Lords  is  by  no  means  co-ordinate  with  the  power  of 
the  popular  branch.  Since  1832  the  Lords  have  not  been 
able  to  defeat  a  measure  which  the  Commons  have  been 
determined  to  pass.  Since  the  House  of  Commons  can 
dictate  to  the  Crown  and  coerce  the  Lords,  greater  interest 

1  Copyright,  Longmans,  Green,  &  Co. 


46S  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

attaches  to  its  proceedings.  Before  being  admitted,  the 
visitor  must  wait  until  the  Speaker  has  been  conducted 
from  his  residence  —  which  is  in  the  Houses  of  Parhament 

—  to  the  chamber  of  the  Commons.  That  official  is  pre- 
ceded by  the  Sergeant-at-arms  carr}'ing  the  mace,  the  symbol 
of  authority,  and  his  coming  is  announced  in  loud  tones  by 
the  heralds  in  the  corridors.  After  he  has  taken  the  chair 
and  prayers  are  over,  visitors  are  admitted ;  not,  however, 
until  they  have  signed  their  names  and  written  their  ad- 
dresses, together  with  the  names  of  the  members  whose 
orders  they  bear,  in  a  book  provided  for  that  purpose.  Then 
having  obtained  the  printed  order  of  the  day  from  an  official 
whose  palm  has  been  properly  crossed,  the  visitor  soon  finds 
himself  in  the  gallery  overlooking  the  floor  of  the  Commons. 
Here  is  the  storm  centre  of  English  politics.  Here  a  sover- 
eign legislative  body  is  deliberating  which  "  can  do  anything 
but  make  it  rain."  Here  are  those  men  who  shape  the 
destiny  of  the  British  Empire.  The  interior  of  the  chamber 
is  not  impressive.  The  room  is  not  large,  —  seating  only 
four  hundred  and  eighty-six  members, — and  the  decorations 
while  rich  are  rather  sombre,  and  anything  but  startling. 
The  seats  are  long  benches,  upholstered  in  dark  green 
leather,  are  somewhat  elevated,  and  extend  the  length  of 
the  room.  Between  the  banks  of  benches  and  at  one  end 
of  the  room  the  Speaker  sits  in  a  somewhat  conspicuous 
position.  The  historic  "bar"  is  at  the  opposite  end  of  the 
chamber,  and  the  bar  in  the  House  of  Lords  is  similarly 
located.  The  visitor  who  is  familiar  with  the  spacious  gal- 
leries at  Washington  will  feel  himself  somewhat  cramped  in 
the  narrow  quarters  provided  for  strangers  in  the  House  of 
Commons.    One  of  these  galleries,  —  probably  the  smallest, 

—  elevated  only  a  short  distance  above  the  floor  of  the 
chamber,  will  accommodate  only  eight  persons.    However,  the 


IMl'RESSIONS  OF   PARLIAMENT  469 

galleries  provided  for  the  use  of  men  are  very  commodious 
in  comparison  with  that  for  the  use  of  women.  The  latter 
gallery  is  located  at  one  end  of  the  chamber,  immediately 
beneath  the  high  ceiling,  and  is  screened  with  a  lattice-work, 
apparently  of  iron.  From  that  lofty  position  the  women  of 
England  are  certainly  unable  to  influence  the  trend  of  parlia- 
mentary legislation.  The  representatives  of  the  press  are 
well  cared  for.  The  reporters  are  favourably  and  conspicu- 
ously placed  in  the  front  row  of  the  gallery,  although,  as 
has  been  said,  there  are  at  the  present  time  orders  upon 
the  journals  of  the  House  prohibiting  the  publication  of  the 
debates.  It  is  needless  to  say  that  these  orders,  although 
never  repealed,  are  not  now  enforced. 

The  House  assembles  at  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon, 
and  the  visitor  will  probably  be  surprised  at  the  compara- 
tively small  attendance.  There  are  now  six  hundred  and 
seventy  members  in  the  House  of  Commons,  but  the  attend- 
ance will  not  exceed  one  hundred  and  fifty  or  two  hundred, 
unless  an  unusually  interesting  debate  is  in  progress,  or  a 
vote  is  being  taken.  Forty  members  constitute  a  quorum  to 
do  business,  and  the  attendance  is  frequently  not  much  in 
excess  of  that  number.  There  is  a  reason  for  this  however, 
which  will  appear  presently. 

The  American  familiar  with  the  legislative  halls  at  Wash- 
ington will  be  impressed  upon  entering  the  House  of  Com- 
mons with  the  business-like  atmosphere  of  the  place  and  the 
lack  of  useless  display.  Business  is  carried  on  in  a  much 
more  quiet  and  dignified  way  than  in  our  House  of  Repre- 
sentatives. In  the  latter  chamber  each  member  has  his  own 
desk,i  and  while  business  is  going  on,  is  likely  to  be  writing 
letters,  conversing  with  a  neighbour,  or  reading  a  book  or 
daily  paper.    In  the  House  of  Commons  there  are  no  desks, 

1  In  1913  the  desks  were  removed  and  benches  installed. 


470 


READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 


no  writing  is  allowed,  and  no  books  or  papers  permitted 
except  the  printed  order  of  the  day.  Messengers  are  not 
allowed  upon  the  floor,  and  hence  are  not  an  element  of  con- 
fusion as  the  pages  are  at  Washington.  Pages  and  others 
not  members  of  the  House  of  Representatives  go  about 
upon  the  floor  of  the  House  with  great  freedom  ;  but  the 
floor  of  the  House  of  Commons  is  sacredly  guarded,  and 
no  one  but  a  member  is  allowed  to  put  foot  upon  it  while 
the  body  is  in  session.  There  is  a  railing  at  each  end  of 
the  room  beyond  which  the  attendants  may  not  venture. 
When  a  note  or  card  is  sent  in,  the  attendant  hands  it  to 
a  member  who  happens  to  sit  near  the  railing,  or  waits 
until  some  member  comes  to  relieve  him  of  the  article. 
It  is  noticeable,  however,  that  when  a  member  sits  only  a 
short  distance  from  the  railing,  the  attendant  will  step  in- 
side and  hold  out  the  message  or  card  in  one  hand  while 
grasping  the  railing  with  the  other.  As  long  as  he  holds 
to  the  railing,  the  law  seems  to  be  complied  with,  al- 
though he  may  be  entirely  within  the  sacred  precincts  of 
the  Commons.  The  fact  that  the  floor  of  the  House  of 
Commons  is  reserved  exclusively  for  members  makes  for 
good  order  in  that  body.  The  absence  of  desks  is  more 
important  still.   ,   .   . 

It  is  somewhat  surprising  to  see  the  majority  of  the  mem- 
bers sitting  with  their  hats  on.  This  custom  has  survived 
from  the  time  when  the  members  of  Parliament  wore  hats, 
long  boots,  spurs,  and  swords  during  their  deliberations.  In 
the  process  of  evolution  the  swords,  spurs,  and  long  boots 
have  vanished,  but  the  hats  still  remain.  When  a  member 
rises  to  speak,  and  when  he  enters  or  leaves  the  room,  his 
hat  is  removed  and  a  slight  bow  is  made  in  the  direction 
of  the  Speaker,  but  under  ordinary  circumstances  the  hat 
remains  upon  the  head  of  its  owner. 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  PARLIAMENT  471 

The  attendance  in  the  chamber  on  ordinary  occasions  seems 
small  in  comparison  with  the  membership.  There  are  now 
six  hundred  and  seventy  members  in  the  Lower  House,  and 
only  a  minority  of  these  are  expected  to  be  present  in  the 
chamber  at  any  given  time.  The  seating  capacity  of  the 
House  is  only  four  hundred  and  eighty-six,  so  that  the  entire 
membership  could  not  be  accommodated  if  present.  Since 
most  of  the  discussions  are  rather  prosy  affairs  and  have 
little  influence  upon  the  voting,  many  members  prefer  to 
take  refuge  in  other  parts  of  the  House  while  the  debate  is 
in  progress,  and  to  appear  at  its  conclusion  to  cast  their  votes. 
The  actual  attendance  at  any  given  time  may  be  comparatively 
slight,  but  if  a  vote  or  a  division  takes  place,  the  members 
flock  into  the  chamber  in  astonishing  numbers.  When  a 
division  is  called  for,  the  Speaker  reverses  a  little  sand-glass, 
which  stands  on  the  table  in  front  of  him.  It  takes  exactly 
two  minutes  for  the  sand  to  run  through,  and  this  is  the 
time  allowed  for  the  assembling  of  the  members.  Electric 
bells  connected  by  sixty  miles  of  wire  are  set  ringing  in  all 
parts  of  the  great  building,  which  covers  eight  acres  of 
ground,  and  "whips"  hurry  out  to  notify  the  members  of 
their  respective  parties,  who  flock  in  from  the  library,  the 
dining-room,  the  smoking  and  committee  rooms,  and  other 
parts  of  the  Houses.  When  the  sand  has  run  through,  the 
doors  are  closed  and  no  one  may  enter.  In  the  division 
the  "  ayes "  go  to  the  lobby  at  the  Speaker's  right  and 
the  "  noes  "  to  the  one  at  his  left,  where  the  counting  is 
done  by  the  tellers.  In  this  way  a  member  may  vote  on  all 
importimt  matters  and  attend  but  few  or  no  debates.  He 
may  also  know  what  is  going  on  in  the  House.  An  electrical 
apparatus  in  each  of  the  important  rooms  where  members  con- 
gregate, prints  the  name  of  the  man  speaking,  the  time  when 
he  began,  and  also  indicates  the  subject  under  discussion. 


472 


READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 


When  another  gets  the  floor  the  change  is  duly  indicated. 
The  Enghshman,  by  the  way,  instead  of  ""  getting  the  floor," 
is  said  to  "get  on  his  legs"  to  speak;  as  if,  as  Charles 
Dickens  remarks  in  his  "  Sketches  by  Boz,"  it  were  some- 
times customary  for  members  to  stand  on  their  heads  while 
speaking  by  way  of  diversion. 

The  manner  of  speaking  is  quite  different  from  that  in 
vogue  at  Washington.  The  conversational  style  prevails  with 
no  attempt  at  oratorical  display.  The  lofty  rhetoric  so  often 
heard  in  Congress  is  seldom  inflicted  upon  the  House  of 
Commons.  A  member  sometimes  becomes  eloquent  because 
he  cannot  help  it,  but  never  with  "  malice  aforethought." 
Members  are  not  allowed  to  deliver  speeches  from  manu- 
script, but  may  use  notes  if  they  wish.  The  result  is  that 
most  of  the  speeches  are  short,  business-like  talks,  while 
some  are  rambling  and  contain  many  repetitions.  The  aver- 
age member  of  the  English  Parliament  is  not  fluent,  but 
speaks  in  a  hesitant  way.  He  will  not  rush  on,  but  will  wait 
for  the  word  which  he  wishes  to  express  his  idea.  The  re- 
sult is  that  he  usually  speaks  with  precision,  saying  exactly 
what  he  intends  to  say.  His  speech  reads  much  better  than 
it  sounds.  This  hesitant  manner  of  speaking  is  much  affected 
in  some  quarters  in  America.  There  are  some  who  wish 
to  imitate  the  English  manner  of  speaking,  and  others  who 
think  that  readiness  in  utterance  must  accompany  super- 
ficiality in  thought.  This,  unfortunately,  is  too  often  true, 
but  it  is  also  true  that  fluency  in  delivery  often  results 
from  a  thorough  mastery  of  the  subject  in  hand.  There 
have  been  great  masters  of  parliamentary  oratory  in  Eng- 
land, —  there  are  a  few  such  at  present,  —  but  the  aver- 
age member  of  Parliament  is  far  from  being  an  orator  in 
the  popular  sense  of  that  term.  He  is  a  very  effective 
speaker,  nevertheless. 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  PARLIAMENT  473 

The  manners  of  the  House  of  Commons  are  an  interesting 
study.  The  individual  member  is  the  personification  of  cour- 
tesy ;  but  the  House,  as  a  whole,  is  hard,  unsympathetic,  and 
at  times  rude.  While  speaking,  the  member  is  scrupulously 
careful  not  to  impute  to  a  fellow  member  motives  even  in  the 
slightest  degree  dishonourable.  Should  he  do  so,  he  is  called 
to  order  instantly  and  apologises  promptly.  The  House,  as  a 
whole,  however,  is  not  so  courteous.  When  a  man  makes  a 
long  and  tiresome  speech  or  utters  unpopular  sentiments,  all 
courtesy  seems  to  vanish.  It  would  be  difficult  to  imagine 
a  more  disagreeable  body  to  face.  There  is  no  applause  by 
clapping  of  hands  or  evidence  of  disapproval  by  hissing,  as 
in  the  United  States  Congress,  but  the  words  "  hear  !  hear  !  " 
are  uttered  in  such  a  way  as  to  express  approval,  disapproval, 
contempt,  or  ridicule.  The  tone  of  voice  is  the  indicator,  and 
there  is  no  mistaking  it.  When  the  cry  "  hear !  hear !  "  is 
not  effective,  noises  of  all  conceivable  kinds  may  be  resorted 
to.  .  .  .  However,  it  would  not  be  fair  to  dwell  too  long 
upon  this  phase  of  the  manners  of  the  House,  since  disorder 
of  this  kind  is  entirely  exceptional,  and  order  and  decorum 
as  a  rule  prevail.  .  .  . 

A  visit  to  the  House  of  Lords  will  not  prove  so  attractive. 
The  chamber  itself  is  much  more  gorgeous  than  that  of  the 
Commons,  but  the  business  of  the  Upper  House  is  not  so 
important.  The  interior  decorations  are  quite  elaborate  and 
striking,  yet  in  good  taste.  The  benches  are  upholstered  in 
red  leather,  and  the  wood-carving,  statuary,  and  paintings  add 
to  the  attractiveness  of  the  scene.  At  one  end  of  the  room 
is  the  ornate  throne  of  the  King,  which,  by  the  wa}-,  he 
would  not  be  allowed  to  occupy  except  on  ver\'  special  occa- 
sions. The  House  usually  convenes  at  four-fifteen  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon,  and  its  sessions  are  generally  short  and 
uneventful.    There  are  nearly  six  hundred  members  at  the 


474  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

present  time,  and  three  of  these  constitute  a  quorum.  A  larger 
quorum  would  probably  be  embarrassing.  Scores  of  members 
almost  never  attend  the  sessions.  Many,  like  Lords  Roberts 
and  Kitchener,  have  duties  elsewhere,  while  others  appreci- 
ate the  honours  of  the  membership,  but  do  not  assume  the 
responsibilities. 

.  .  .  The  Lord  Chancellor  presides,  sitting  on  the  famous 
"  woolsack,"  which  is  now  a  large  ottoman  upholstered  in  red. 
The  debates  are  likely  to  be  rather  perfunctory  in  character, 
owing  to  the  predominance  of  the  House  of  Commons.  The 
real  strength  and  importance  of  the  House  of  Lords  appear 
in  the  work  of  its  committees. 

The  archbishop  and  bishops  of  the  Church  of  England, 
clad  in  their  clerical  robes,  are  present  and  participate  in  the 
business  of  the  session.  There  has  been  an  agitation  for  a 
number  of  years  tending  toward  the  disestablishment  of  the 
Church  of  England  and  the  removal  of  the  spiritual  peers 
from  the  House  of  Lords.  The  change  is  destined  to  be 
made  sooner  or  later,  and  when  made  .will  benefit  the 
Church  and   State  alike. 

Number  jg 
ORIENTAL   PAX   BRITANNICA 

Albert  Bushnell  Hart.    The  Obvious  Orient}  pp.  285-296. 

England  is  the  modern  Rome  ;  we  know  it  because  bril- 
liant essayists  tell  us  so  ;  because  Great  Britain  is  the  power 
most  widely  spread  upon  the  earth's  surface  ;  because  Eng- 
land, like  Rome,  has  conquered  great  civilized  countries  and 
built  up  native  institutions  on  a  foundation  of  English  law ; 
because  where  the  British  drum  beats  there  is  order,  peace 

1  Copyright,  191 1,  by  D.  Appleton  &  Company. 


ORIENTAL  PAX   BRITANNICA  475 

and  justice.  The  ordinary  round-the-world  journey  gives  some 
opportunity  to  test  tiiis  assertion,  for  it  passes  through,  or 
very  near,  Canada,  Hong  Kong,  the  Straits  Settlement, 
Ceylon,  India,  Egypt,  Aden,  Malta,  Gibraltar,  and  the 
island  of  Great  Britain.  Besides  which,  anybody  who  so 
wishes  may  ticket  from  Vancouver  to  London  via  Melbourne 
and  Capetown.  That  takes  in  most  of  the  British  possessions, 
except  the  West  Indies,  which,  when  the  Panama  Canal  is 
finished,  will  be  readily  strung  on  a  voyage  from  New  York 
to  South  Africa,  and  will  leave  unvisited  only  the  Central 
African  possessions. 

This  is  a  formidable  list,  and  the  history  of  the  expansion 
of  the  British  empire  is  a  splendid  story  of  adventure,  grit, 
bulldog  fighting,  and  a  rare  capacity  to  administer  outlying 
lands.  England  is  now  at  the  maximum  of  her  greatness  as 
a  colonial  Power,  not  only  at  the  greatest  height  yet  reached, 
but  probably  at  the  greatest  ever  to  be  reached.  P'or,  as  you 
skirt  and  penetrate  Asia,  you  see  how  completely  that  conti- 
nent and  its  adjacent  islands  are  now  held  by  powers  able 
to  protect  them  from  further  annexations.  The  only  small 
state  which  has  extensive  colonies  in  the  Orient  is  Holland, 
and  the  last  probability  in  the  East  is  that  Great  Britain 
will  ever  absorb  the  Dutch  islands ;  and  neither  Russia, 
P^rance,  Germany  or  the  United  States  means  to  cede  any 
territory. 

The  first  thing  that  the  observer  notices  is  the  wide  longi- 
tude of  the  British  holdings.  Without  counting  the  British 
island  groups  in  the  Pacific,  the  British  colonies  begin  at  two 
points  on  the  east  coast  of  China  ;  Wei  Hai  Wei,  opposite 
Port  Arthur,  and  Hong  Kong.  The  former  is  only  a  make- 
weight for  the  neighboring  German  and  Japanese  holdings ; 
the  latter  is  a  strategic  commercial  place,  a  ganglion  in  the 
l^ritish  colonial  system,  and  a  main  defense  in  eastern  Asia, 


476  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

Passing  westward,  England,  b)-  the  sagacity  and  dash  of 
Sir  Thomas  Stamford  Raffles,  owns  the  whole  of  the  Malay 
Peninsula,  with  its  commanding  port  of  Singapore,  By  a 
recent  treaty  with  Siam,  three  considerable  provinces,  claimed 
by  that  kingdom,  have  been  added  to  the  Malay  Federated 
States,  the  latest,  and,  perhaps,  the  last  British  territorial 
gain  in  that  part  of  the  world.  Next  west  is  Burma,  join- 
ing the  Malay  States  on  one  side  and  India  on  the  other, 
and  thus  making  the  bay  of  Bengal  a  British  lake.  Then 
comes  Ceylon,  which  will  be  the  subject  of  a  separate  chap- 
ter. India  is  a  large  term,  covering  an  empire  in  itself, 
and  reaching  backward  into  mountains,  the  ownership  of 
which  is  still  hardly  settled.  On  the  south  coast  of  Arabia, 
commanding  the  entrance  to  the  Red  Sea,  is  the  Rock 
of  Aden,  with  a  small  hinterland.  Then  comes  Eg)'pt, 
which  includes  the  west  coast  of  the  Red  Sea,  the  Suez 
Canal  and  the  Mediterranean,  stretching  southward  toward 
central  Africa ;  Cyprus,  Malta  and  Gibraltar  complete  the 
chain  of  British  posts  and  colonies  extending  half  around 
the  world. 

England  has  become  possessed  of  these  regions  by  various 
methods.  The  Malay  States  are  almost  the  only  part  of  Asia 
which  England  may  claim  by  right  of  conquest,  from  unor- 
ganized, if  not  uncivilized  people;  for  the  most  of  her  Oriental 
colonies  England  has  had  to  fight  and  to  hold  by  an  army 
and  navy.  The  fortified  islands  have  been  chosen  with  great 
skill  and  disregard  of  the  previous  holders.  The  Spaniards 
have,  for  two  centuries,  resented  Gibraltar,  Napoleon  went  to 
war  again  in  1803  for  Malta  ;  Hong  Kong  was  seized  by  the 
British  in  1 84 1  and  its  hinterland  on  the  continent  was  added 
in  1895  when  the  Chinese  could  not  resist.  Ceylon  and  India 
were  conquered  partly  by  dispossessing  the  Dutch,  Spanish, 
Portuguese  and  PYench,  partly  by  war  with  the  native  states. 


ORIENTAL   TAX    IIRriAXXICA  477 

In  this  respect  England  is  not  unlike  Rome,  but  east  of 
Europe  there  is  not  a  British  possession  which  has  been 
Anglicized  as  Asia  Minor  and  Eg)pt  were  Romanized,  by 
the  conqueror  imposing  his  gods  and  his  jurisprudence  upon 
the  conquered  people.  There  is  nothing  in  Ceylon  which 
corresponds  to  the  Roman  provincial  basilicas,  the  theatres, 
the  temples  of  Jupiter  and  the  statues  of  the  emperor.  The 
Roman  colonies  accepted  not  only  the  rule  but  the  customs 
of  Rome,  while  in  Egypt,  India  and  the  Malay  States,  the 
British  are  still  exotic ;  not  one  of  those  countries  has  accepted 
the  religion  or  social  system  of  Great  Britain  ;  in  their  own 
minds  they  are  not  British,  but  still  Eg}'ptians,  East  Indians 
and  southern  Asiatics.  The  English  have  been  in  Eg)'pt 
only  a  quarter  of  a  century,  and  in  the  Malay  Peninsula  three 
times  as  long,  but  they  have  been  in  India  for  300  years, 
and  its  master  for  150,  and  up  to  this  day  not  i  per  cent. 
of  the  native  population  is  Christian  and  probably  less  than 
I  per  cent,  can  use  the  English  language. 

It  has  never  been  the  policy  to  Anglicize  the  English 
colonies  ;  with  studious  and  wise  discretion  the  British  have 
as  little  as  possible  disturbed  the  religious  and  social  life  of 
the  dependencies,  except  by  permitting  missionary  work  among 
those  who  chose  to  heed.  No  other  policy  was  possible, 
because  the  English  have  never  successfully  colonized  any 
tropical  country.  Australia  and  South  Africa  are  no  excep- 
tions, for  they  are  mostly  south  of  the  tropics,  and  central 
Africa  has  a  temperate  climate  because  of  its  elevation.  The 
experience  of  centuries  has  shown  that  most  Englishmen 
who  spend  their  lives  in  the  tropics  bring  back  the  seeds  of 
disease,  and  that  their  white  children  do  not  grow  up  strong 
and  vigorous.  There  is  not,  and  never  will  be,  an  English 
population  in  any  Oriental  country,  outside  of  officers,  mis- 
sionaries, planters,  commercial  men  and  their  families,  with 


478  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

a  floating  addition  of  mechanics  and  former  soldiers.  Few 
Europeans  expect  to  live  long  enough  to  die  in  the  tropics. 
Even  in  Hong  Kong  the  Chinese  population  outnumbers  the 
European  by  at  least  forty  to  one.  The  British  can  govern 
those  countries  only  by  tact  and  forbearance. 

It  cannot  be  said  that  tact  and  forbearance  are  the  natural 
landmarks  of  British  character,  any  more  than  an  inborn 
sympathy  for  inferior  races.  Everybody  who  travels  in  the 
East  sees  Englishmen  kicking  and  cuffing  their  native  serv- 
ants, and  a  young  American  who  chanced  to  room  in  an 
Indian  bungalow  with  a  lot  of  young  Englishmen  saw  their 
native  bearers  literally  pulling  on  their  undershirts  and  draw- 
ing off  their  stockings  in  the  midst  of  blows  and  abuse.  A 
recent  administrator  in  India  has  set  forth  in  a  formal  book 
his  conviction  that  the  personal  bearing  of  Englishmen 
toward  the  natives  is  weakening  the  bonds  of  the  empire. 
He  gives  as  an  instance  the  complaint  of  a  native  prince 
that  when  he  undertook  to  travel  first-class  with  a  party  of 
young  Englishmen,  they  made  him  black  their  boots. 

It  is  a  fine  trait  of  English  character  that,  notwithstanding 
their  contempt  for  the  dark-skinned  man,  they  hold  up 
throughout  the  East  a  Roman  standard  of  inflexible  law  ;  the 
English  courts  are  models  of  justice,  as  even-handed  as  the  traf- 
fic will  bear,  for  it  is  a  little  difficult  to  carr}-  out  inflexible  justice 
in  a  country  where,  for  example,  a  man  is  sued  for  a  fictitious 
debt,  in  proof  of  which  acknowledgm.ents  in  his  own  handwrit- 
ing are  produced.  Does  he  set  to  work  to  expose  this  forged 
testimony .?  Not  in  the  least ;  he  comes  to  court  furnished 
with  a  corresponding  set  of  receipts  with  forged  signatures 
of  his  adversary,  showing  that  the  debt  was  paid.  It  is  a  wise 
judge  who  can  hold  the  balance  equal  between  such  litigants. 

All  the  structure  of  British  government  and  justice  pro- 
ceeds from  above  downward.  There  are  three  great  federations 


ORIKN'l'AL   TAX    BRITANNICA  479 

within  the  British  empire,  Canada,  Australia  and  South  Africa, 
besides  other  democratic  colonies,  but  not  one  of  them  is  in 
Asia.  Not  even  the  handful  of  British  out  here  have  repre- 
sentative government  for  themselves  except  in  some  munici- 
palities. The  British  in  India  have  less  self-government  than 
the  British  in  Newfoundland.  Still,  in  India  there  is  a  be- 
ginning of  native  representation.  The  normal  type  of  British 
Asiatic  government  is  an  administrator  at  the  head  of  a  staff 
of  subordinate  officials  and  a  small  body  of  judges,  all  respon- 
sible to  the  ministry  in  London  and  ultimately  to  Parliament. 

Such  a  government  works  well  in  such  a  community  as 
Hong  Kong.  The  settled  part  of  the  island  is  practically  all 
included  in  the  city  of  Victoria,  which,  with  its  fine,  tall 
buildings  on  the  harbor  front  and  its  beautiful  roads  wind- 
ing  up  the  slope,  is  (in  the  unusual  intervals  of  sunshine) 
one  of  the  most  attractive  places  in  the  world.  It  is  wonder- 
ful how  the  foreigners,  who  are  but  a  handful,  give  tone  and 
control  to  the  city.  Notwithstanding  the  large  class  of  wealthy 
Chinese  and  many  Eurasians,  in  spite  of  the  Chinese  shop- 
keepers and  artisans  and  coolies  and  rickshamen  who  throng 
the  streets,  the  place  seems  full  of  Europeans.  They  do  not 
suffer,  for  their  interests  are  watched  over  ;  but  the  educated 
natives  are  also  excluded  from  influence  in  their  ow^n  govern- 
ment, except  the  few  who  are  appointed  to  administrative  and 
judicial  posts.  In  Singapore,  Penang  and  Colombo  the  Eng- 
lish are  fewer,  and  the  natives  in  their  brilliant  and  picturesque 
costumes  take  possession  of  the  streets  ;  you  are  under  no 
illusions  as  to  their  being  European  cities.  In  Singapore  and 
Penang  the  Chinese  are  numerous  and  are  much  in  evidence ; 
theirs  are  the  most  costly  villas  and  fine  carriages.   .  .  . 

In  India  both  economic  and  social  conditions  are  less 
favorable  to  the  British  power  than  in  the  settlements  farther 
east.    India  is  an  enormous  country,  inhabited  by  man)-  race 


480  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

stocks,  and  sub-divided  by  sharp  religious  antipathies.  There 
are  as  many  languages  as  in  Austro-Hungary,  Except  in  the 
north,  where  the  Sikhs,  Ghoorkas,  Pathans  and  other  hill 
people  hold  themselves  aloof  from  central  India,  the  races 
seem  to  feel  little  sense  of  hostility ;  but  of  the  three  great 
religious  elements,  the  Buddhist,  Hindu  and  Mohammedan, 
the  last  two  are  at  variance  with  each  other.   .   .   . 

Outside  of  India,  race  and  religious  problems  do  not  much 
disturb  the  harmony  of  the  British  colonies.  The  authorities 
take  the  common-sense  view  that  in  such  colonies  the  indus- 
trious and  shrewd  Chinaman  is  a  blessing,  and  he  is  in  force 
everywhere,  as  far  west  as  Penang,  furnishing  not  only  mer- 
chants and  capitalists,  but  also  a  reliable  plantation  laborer ; 
for  the  Malay  likes  to  work  for  himself  when  he  works  at  all. 
The  Japanese  have  no  footing  west  of  Shanghai.  A  few  Java- 
nese laborers  have  been  brought  over  to  the  Straits,  but  with 
little  success.  Indians  —  mostly  Tamils  —  go  eastward  as  far 
as  Singapore,  and  the  Sikh  policeman  is  a  figure  in  several 
cities.  A  few  Germans  are  carrying  on  business  in  the  cities, 
and  a  battalion  of  them  came  on  board  ship  at  Penang,  to  give 
a  send-off  to  one  of  their  number  with  beer,  songs  and  march- 
ings on  the  deck,  enough  to  set  up  a  small  German  university. 

For  a  good  government  the  first  essential  is  good  order 
and  the  Pax  Britannica  has  given  to  all  the  countries  ruled 
by  England  freedom  from  the  regime  of  raids,  petty  despo- 
tisms, civil  wars  and  invasions  which  had  prevailed  since  the 
dawn  of  history.  Since  the  Indian  mutiny,  50  years  ago, 
British  troops  have  not  been  used  in  India  except  for  the 
enlargement  of  the  empire.  Ceylon  since  1840  has  been 
freed  from  civil  war  and  local  tyrannies,  which  had  been  her 
lot  for  25  centuries.  The  Malay  States  are  a  standing  miracle 
of  government.  "  Robinson  Crusoe  "  is  not  more  thrilling 
than  the  story  of  Sir  Stamford  Raffles  taking  possession  of 


ORIENTAL  PAX   TIRITANNICA  481 

a  site  on  the  extreme  southern  end  of  the  Malay  Peninsula 
and,  b\-  his  pluck,  compelling  the  East  India  Company  to 
back  him  up  ;  and  out  of  a  set  of  local  tribes  who  inherited 
undying  hostilities  with  each  other,  building  up  the  most 
prosperous  colony  in  Asia,  The  two  towns  of  Singapore 
and  Penang,  so  rankly  tropical,  have  lovely  villas,  renowned 
botanic  gardens,  and  every  evidence  of  prosperity.  It  is  the 
only  part  of  the  Asiatic  coast,  except  India  and  Ikirma,  in 
which  a  system  of  railroads  is  going  forward.  Singapore  and 
Penang  have  just  been  connected,  and  before  long  there  will 
be  another  line  across  the  Siam.  The  profitable  tin  mines 
and  rubber  and  other  plantations  give  plenty  of  work  and 
good  dividends,  but  none  of  these  sources  of  prosperity 
would  avail  but  for  the  excellent  British  government.  .  .  . 
The  army  is  a  necessary  part  of  the  British  regime,  and 
Mr.  Thomas  Atkins  is  the  main  dependence.  Notwithstand- 
ing the  British  coup  of  sending  native  Indian  regiments  to 
Europe  in  1878,  they  depend  on  British  regiments  for  the 
ultimate  defenses  of  their  colonies.  The  world  accepts  Rud- 
yard  Kipling  as  the  bard  and  delineator  of  the  British  army  in 
the  East,  but  he  does  not  do  justice  to  the  excellent  tailoring  in 
all  branches  of  ser\'ice.  In  time  of  peace  the  soldier  still  wears 
the  red  coat,  though  he,  and  still  more,  his  officers,  have  swag- 
ger outfits  of  khaki.  The  troops  are  much  in  evidence  both 
in  their  forts  and  barracks  and,  when  off  duty,  on  the  streets. 
Outside  India  they  are  only  a  few  thousands,  but  in  that  empire 
since  the  Indian  mutiny,  no  native  soldier  is  allowed  to  serve 
in  the  artillery,  and  no  regiments  have  native  officers  of  high 
rank.  The  British  army  there  is  about  100,000  strong,  which 
is  one  to  3,000  of  the  population,  and  that  slender  force  bolsters 
up  the  British  world  power ;  but  it  is  a  strain  on  that  power, 
for  to  recRiit,  maintain  and  send  out  such  a  force  8,000  miles 
is  a  heavy  draught  on  England's  available  supply  of  soldiers. 


482  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

The  problem  which  the  Enghsh  government  seeks  to  solve 
in  the  Orient  is,  with  this  slender  support  of  military  power, 
backed  up  by  the  British  navy,  to  make  millions  of  Asiatic 
people  contented  and  productive,  without  according  them  an 
effective  share  in  their  own  government,  all  under  an  irritat- 
ing assertion  of  superiority  to  a  people  which,  in  religion, 
literature,  art,  political  histor)^,  is  a  thousand  years  older  than 
England,  At  the  same  time  other  Asiatic  people  are  w'orking 
out  their  own  destiny  ;  the  victory  of  the  Japanese  over  Rus- 
sia has  resounded  through  Asia.  If  China  gets  out  of  her 
leading  strings,  India  will  be  that  much  more  discontented. 
The  load  grows  heavier  as  the  subject  countries  become 
more  prosperous. 

If  Great  Britain  had  no  other  anxieties  she  might  hold  the 
East  indefinitely,  partly  because  the  Pax  Britannica  in  the 
East  is  preferable  to  any  Pax  Germanica  or  Pax  Borussia, 
partly  because  India  is  not  a  solid  countr)',  the  future  of  which 
could  be  predicted  in  case  the  English  were  compelled  to 
leave ;  partly  because  of  the  hold-fast  nature  of  Englishmen. 
No  combination  in  India  and  still  less  elsewhere,  is  now  in 
a  position  to  rival  those  who  are  in  possession  of  the  troops, 
the  ships,  the  fortifications,  the  military  supplies  and  the 
machinery  of  communication.  The  really  pressing  question 
of  English  dominion  in  the  East  is  whether  she  can  hold  on 
in  case  of  European  war,  when  the  attempt  will  perhaps  be 
made  to  break  off  some  of  the  British  territories.  Except 
Aden,  which  is  a  first-class  fortress,  and  Hong  Kong,  which 
has  some  batteries,  not  a  single  British  Asiatic  port  can 
defend  itself ;  it  all  depends  on  the  na\7,  and  (unless  Aus- 
tralia builds  a  fleet)  that  means  a  navy  built  in  England, 
sent  from  England,  coaled  as  far  as  Aden  from  England  and 
reenforced  from  England.  Every  captain  of  the  North  Ger- 
man Lloyd  carries  sealed  orders  to  be  opened  if  war  breaks 


THE  TRUE  CONCEPTION  OF  EMPIRE         4S3 

out ;  and  somewhere  —  probably  at  Tsintau  —  are  supplies  of 
guns  and  ammunition  for  their  ships.  Tlic  line  of  defense  is 
already  weakened  by  the  passing  of  the  Philippine  Islands 
into  the  hands  of  a  first-class  Power.  In  the  present  condition 
of  Asia  a  disaster  to  the  English  colonies  would  be  a  misfor- 
tune to  civilization,  for  no  rival  Power,  Russia,  PYance  or 
Germany,  is  so  good  a  master  as  Great  Britain,  or  so  much 
interested  in  keeping  commerce  open. 

The  question  is  whether  good  European  governments  are 
going  to  remain  permanently  in  Asia.  As  in  Japan  and 
China,  so  in  the  Malay  States  and  India,  the  Asiatic  char- 
acter has  not  been  much  altered  by  contact  with  Europeans. 
Native  governments,  with  native  standards,  are  perfectly 
compatible  with  daily  trains  and  morning  newspapers.  The 
plain  tendency  in  Asia  is  to  throw  backward  the  tide  of  Euro- 
pean conquest  and  occupation.  In  such  a  movement  Great 
Britain,  as  the  principal  colonizing  power,  has  most  to  appre- 
hend.  The  Pax  Britannica  does  not  extend  to  world  politics. 


Ntunber  80 
THE  TRUE  CONCEPTION  OF  EMPIRE 

Joseph  Chamkerlain.  Speech  delivered  before  the  Royal  Colonial  Insti- 
tute, London,  March  31,  1897.  T/w  U'or/ifs  Famous  Orations,  Vol.  V, 
pp.  184-191.    William  Jennings  Bryan,  editor  in  chief. 

It  seems  to  me  that  there  are  three  distinct  stages  in  our 
imperial  histon,-.  We  began  to  be,  and  we  ultimately  became, 
a  great  imperial  Power  in  the  eighteenth  century,  but,  during 
the  greater  part  of  that  time,  the  Colonies  were  regarded, 
not  only  by  us,  but  by  every  European  Power  that  possessed 
them,  as  possessions  valuable  in  proportion  to  the  pecuniary 


484  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

advantage  which  they  brought  to  the  mother  country,  which, 
under  that  order  of  ideas,  was  not  truly  a  mother  at  all,  but 
appeared  rather  in  the  light  of  a  grasping  and  absentee  land- 
lord, desiring  to  take  from  his  tenants  the  utmost  rents 
he  could  exact.  The  Colonies  were  valued  and  maintained 
because  it  was  thought  that  they  would  be  a  source  of  profit 
—  of  direct  profit  —  to  the  mother  countr)'. 

That  was  the  first  stage,  and  when  we  were  rudely  awakened 
by  the  War  of  Independence  in  America  from  this  dream 
that  the  Colonies  could  be  held  for  our  profit  alone,  the 
second  chapter  was  entered  upon,  and  the  public  opinion 
seems  then  to  have  drifted  to  the  opposite  extreme  ;  and,  be- 
cause the  Colonies  were  no  longer  a  source  of  revenue,  it 
seems  to  have  been  believed  and  argued  by  many  people  that 
their  separation  from  us  was  only  a  matter  of  time,  and  that 
that  separation  should  be  desired  and  encouraged,  lest  haply 
they  might  prove  an  encumbrance  and  a  source  of  weakness. 

It  was  while  those  views  were  still  entertained,  while  the 
Little  Englanders  were  in  their  full  career,  that  this  Institute  ^ 
was  founded  to  protest  against  doctrines  so  injurious  to  our 
interests  and  so  derogator}'  to  our  honor ;  and  I  rejoice  that 
what  was  then,  as  it  were,  "  a  voice  crying  in  the  wilderness  " 
is  now  the  expressed  and  determined  will  of  the  overwhelm- 
ing majority  of  the  British  people.  Partly  by  the  efforts  of 
this  Institute  and  similar  organizations,  partly  by  the  writings 
of  such  men  as  Froude  and  Seeley,  but  mainly  by  the  instinc- 
tive good  sense  and  patriotism  of  the  people  at  large,  we  have 
now  reached  the  third  stage  in  our  history,  and  the  true  con- 
ception of  our  empire.  What  is  that  conception  ?  As  regards 
the  self-governing  Colonies  we  no  longer  talk  of  them  as 
dependencies.  The  sense  of  possession  has  given  place  to 
the  sentiment  of  kinship. 

iThe  Royal  Colonial  Institute. 


THE  TRUE  CCJNCEPTIUX   Ul'    EMPIRE         4.S5 

We  think  and  speak  of  them  as  part  of  ourselves,  as  part 
of  the  Hrilish  Empire,  united  to  us,  altho  they  may  be  dis- 
persed throughout  the  world,  by  ties  of  kindred,  of  religion, 
of  history,  and  of  language,  and  joined  to  us  by  the  seas 
that  formerly  seemed  to  divide  us. 

But  the  British  Empire  is  not  confined  to  the  self-govern- 
ing Colonies  and  the  United  Kingdom.  It  includes  a  much 
greater  area,  a  much  more  numerous  population,  in  tropical 
climes,  where  no  considerable  European  settlement  is  possible, ' 
and  where  the  native  population  must  always  vastly  outnum- 
ber the  white  inhabitants  ;  and  in  these  cases  also  the  same 
change  has  come  over  the  imperial  idea.  Here  also  the  sense 
of  possession  has  given  place  to  a  different  sentiment  —  the 
sense  of  obligation.  We  feel  now  that  our  rule  over  these 
territories  can  only  be  justified  if  we  can  show  that  it  adds  to 
the  happiness  and  prosperity  of  the  people,  and  I  maintain 
that  our  rule  does,  and  has,  brought  security  and  peace  and 
comparative  prosperity  to  countries  that  never  knew  these 
blessings  before. 

In  carr^'ing  out  this  work  of  civilization  we  are  fulfilling 
what  I  believe  to  be  our  national  mission,  and  we  are  finding 
scope  for  the  exercise  of  those  faculties  and  qualities  which 
have  made  of  us  a  great  governing  race.  I  do  not  say  that 
our  success  has  been  perfect  in  every  case,  I  do  not  say  that 
all  our  methods  have  been  beyond  reproach  ;  but  I  do  say 
that  in  almost  every  instance  in  which  the  rule  of  the  queen 
has  been  established  and  the  great  Pax  Britannica  has  been 
enforced,  there  has  come  with  it  greater  security  to  life  and 
property,  and  a  material  improvement  in  the  condition  of  the 
bulk  of  the  population.  No  doubt,  in  the  first  instance,  when 
these  conquests  have  been  made,  there  has  been  bloodshed, 
there  has  been  loss  of  life  among  the  native  populations,  loss 
of  still  more  precious  lives  among  those  who  have  been  sent 


486  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

out  to  bring  these  countries  into  some  kind  of  disciplined 
order,  but  it  must  be  remembered  that  that  is  the  condition 
of  the  mission  we  have  to  fulfil.   .  .  . 

...  In  the  wide  dominions  of  the  queen  the  doors  of  the 
temple  of  Janus  are  never  closed,  and  it  is  a  gigantic  task 
that  we  have  undertaken  when  we  have  determined  to  wield 
the  scepter  of  empire.  Great  is  the  task,  great  is  the  respon- 
sibility, but  great  is  the  honor ;  and  I  am  convinced  that  the 
'conscience  and  the  spirit  of  the  country  will  rise  to  the  height 
of  its  obligations,  and  that  we  shall  have  the  strength  to  fulfil 
the  mission  which  our  history  and  our  national  character  have 
imposed  upon  us. 

In  regard  to  the  self-governing  Colonies  our  task  is  much 
lighter.  We  have  undertaken,  it  is  true,  to  protect  them  with 
all  the  strength  at  our  command  against  foreign  aggression, 
altho  I  hope  that  the  need  for  our  intervention  may  never 
arise.  But  there  remains  what  then  will  be  our  chief  duty  — 
that  is,  to  give  effect  to  that  sentiment  of  kinship  to  which  I 
have  referred  and  which  I  believe  is  deep  in  the  heart  of 
every  Briton.  We  want  to  promote  a  closer  and  firmer  union 
between  all  members  of  the  great  British  race,  and  in  this 
respect  we  have  in  recent  years  made  great  progress  —  so 
great  that  I  think  sometimes  some  of  our  friends  are  apt  to 
be  a  little  hasty,  and  to  expect  even  a  miracle  to  be  accom- 
plished. I  would  like  to  ask  them  to  remember  that  time 
and  patience  are  essential  elements  in  the  development  of 
all  great  ideas.  Let  us,  gentlemen,  keep  our  ideal  always 
before  us.  For  my  own  part,  I  believe  in  the  practical  pos- 
sibility of  a  federation  of  the  British  race,  but  I  know  that 
it  will  come,  if  it  does  come,  not  by  pressure,  not  by  anything 
in  the  nature  of  dictation  from  this  country,  but  it  will  come 
as  the  realization  of  a  universal  desire,  as  the  expression  of 
the  dearest  wish  of  our  Colonial  fellow  subjects  themselves. 


THE  TRUE  CONCEPTKJN  OE  EMPIRI':         487 

That  such  a  result  would  be  desirable,  would  be  in  the 
interest  of  all  our  Colonies  as  well  as  of  ourselves,  I  do  not 
believe  any  sensible  man  will  doubt.  It  seems  to  me  that  the 
tendency  of  the  time  is  to  throw  all  power  into  the  hands  of 
the  greater  empires,  and  the  minor  kingdoms  —  those  which 
are  non-progressive  —  seem  to  be  destined  to  fall  into  a 
secondary  and  subordintite  place.  But,  if  Greater  Britain 
remains  united,  no  empire  in  the  world  can  ever  surpass 
it  in  area,  in  population,  in  wealth,  or  in  the  diversity  of 
its  resources. 

Let  us,  then,  have  confidence  in  the  future.  I  do  not  ask 
you  to  anticipate  with  Lord  Macaulay  the  time  when  the 
New  Zealander  will  come  here  to  gaze  upon  the  ruins  of  a 
great  dead  city.  There  arc  in  our  present  condition  no  visi- 
ble signs  of  decrepitude  and  decay.  The  mother  country  is 
still  vigorous  and  fruitful,  is  still  able  to  send  forth  troops  of 
stalwart  sons  to  people  and  to  occupy  the  waste  spaces  of  the 
earth  ;  but  yet  it  may  well  be  that  some  of  these  sister  nations 
whose  love  and  affection  we  eagerly  desire  may  in  the  future 
equal  and  even  surpass  our  greatness.  A  transoceanic  capital 
may  arise  across  the  seas,  which  will  throw  into  shade  the 
glories  of  London  itself  ;  but  in  the  years  that  must  inter- 
vene let  it  be  our  endeavor,  let  it  be  our  task,  to  keep  alight 
the  torch  of  imperial  patriotism,  to  hold  fast  the  affection  and 
the  confidence  of  our  kinsmen  across  the  seas  ;  so  that  in 
every  vicissitude  of  fortune  the  British  Empire  may  present 
an  unbroken  front  to  all  her  foes,  and  may  carry  on  even  to 
distant  ages  the  glorious  traditions  of  the  British  flag.   .  .  . 


488  READINGS   IN   ENGLISH   HIS'JORY 

Number  8i 

THE  PLACE  OF  THE  CROWN  IN  THE 
ENGLISH  GOVERNMENT 

Frederic  Austin  Ogg.    77;^?  Governments  of  Eu7-ofe,  pp.  48-60, /«jj//«. 
THE   CROWN:   LEGAL   STATUS  AND   PRIVILEGES 

Contrasts  of  Theory  and  Fact.  —  The  government  of  the 
United  Kingdom  is  in  ultimate  theory  an  absolute  monarchy, 
in  form  a  limited,  constitutional  monarchy,  and  in  fact  a 
thoroughgoing  democracy.  At  its  head  stands  the  sovereign, 
who  is  at  the  same  time  the  supreme  executive,  a  co-ordinate 
legislative  authority  (and,  in  theory,  much  more  than  that), 
the  fountain  of  justice  and  of  honor,  the  "  supreme  governor  " 
of  the  Church,  the  commander-in-chief  of  the  army  and  navy, 
the  conservator  of  the  peace,  and  t\\Q  parcjis  patriae  and  ex 
officio  guardian  of  the  helpless  and  the  needy.  In  law,  all 
land  is  held,  directly  or  indirectly,  of  him.  Parliament  exists 
only  by  his  will.  Those  who  sit  in  it  are  summoned  by  his 
writ,  and  the  privilege  of  voting  for  a  member  of  the  lower 
chamber  is  only  a  franchise,  not  a  right  independent  of  his 
grant.  Technically,  the  sovereign  never  dies  ;  there  is  only 
a  demise  of  the  crown,  i.e.,  a  transfer  of  regal  authority  from 
one  person  to  another,  and  the  state  is  never  without  a 
recognized  head. 

The  assertions  that  have  been  made  represent  with  sub- 
stantial accuracy  the  ultimate  theory  of  the  status  of  the  crown 
in  the  governmental  system.  In  respect  to  the  form  and  fact 
of  that  system  as  it  actually  operates,  however,  it  would  hardly 
be  possible  to  make  assertions  that  would  convey  a  more  erro- 
neous impression.    The  breadth  of  the  discrepancy  that  here 


THE  PLACE  OE  THE  CROWN  489 

subsists  between  theory  and  fact  will  l)e  made  apparent  as 
examination  proceeds  of  the  organization  and  workings  of 
the  executive,  the  legislative,  and  the  judicial  departments  of 
the  government  of  the  realm.  It  is  necessary  first  of  all, 
however,  to  give  attention  to  certain  of  the  more  external 
aspects  of  the  position  which  the  monarch  occupies. 

Title  to  the  Throne  :  the  Act  of  Settlement,  1701.  —  Since 
the  Revolution  of  1688  title  to  the  English  throne  has  been 
based  solely  upon  the  will  of  the  nation  as  expressed  in  par- 
liamentary enactment.  The  statute  under  which  the  succes- 
sion is  regulated  is  the  Act  of  Settlement,  passed  by  the  Tory 
parliament  of  1701,  b\-  wliich  it  was  provided  that,  in  default 
of  heirs  of  William  III.  and  Anne,  the  crown  and  all  preroga- 
tives thereto  appertaining  should  "  be,  remain,  and  continue 
to  the  most  Excellent  Princess  Sophia,  and  the  heirs  of  her 
body,  being  Protestants."  Sophia,  a  granddaughter  of  James  I., 
was  the  widow  of  the  Elector  of  Hanover,  and  although  in 
1 70 1  she  was  not  first  in  the  natural  order  of  succession,  she 
was  first  among  the  surviving  heirs  who  were  Protestants, 
It  was  by  virtue  of  the  act  mentioned  that,  upon  the  death 
of  Anne  in  17 14,  the  throne  devolved  upon  the  son  of 
the  German  Electress  (George  I.).  The  present  sovereign, 
George  V.,  is  the  eighth  of  the  Hanoverian  dynasty.  .  .  . 

Royal  Privileges  :  the  Civil  List.  —  The  sovereign  is  capa- 
ble of  owning  land  and  other  property,  and  of  disposing  of  it 
precisely  as  may  any  private  citizen.  The  vast  accumulations 
of  property,  however,  which  at  one  time  comprised  the  prin- 
cipal source  of  revenue  of  the  crown,  have  become  the  pos- 
session of  the  state,  and  as  such  are  administered  entirely 
under  the  direction  of  Parliament.  In  lieu  of  the  income  de- 
rived formerly  from  land  and  other  independent  sources  the 
sovereign  has  been  accorded  for  the  support  of  the  royal  house- 
hold a  fixed  annual  subsidy  —  voted  under  the  designation 


490 


READINGS  IN  ENGLISH   HISTORY 


of  the  Civil  List  —  the  amount  of  which  is  determined  afresh 
at  the  beginning  of  each  reign.  ...  In  addition  to  various 
annuities  payable  to  the  children  of  the  royal  family,  the  Civil 
List  of  Edward  VII.,  established  by  Act  of  July  2,  1901, 
amounted  to  ;^470,ooo,  of  which  ;^i  10,000  was  appropriated 
to  the  privy  purse  of  the  king  and  queen,  ;^  12 5,000  to  sala- 
ries and  retiring  allowances  of  the  royal  household,  and  £193,,- 
000  to  household  expenses.  At  the  accession  of  George  V., 
in  19 10,  the  Civil  List  was  continued  in  the  sum  of  ^^4 70,000. 
The  sovereign  enjoys  unrestricted  immunity  from  political 
responsibility  and  from  personal  distraint.  The  theory  of  the 
law  has  long  been  that  the  king  can  do  no  wrong,  which 
means  that  for  his  public  acts  the  sovereign's  ministers  must 
bear  complete  responsibility  and  for  his  private  conduct  he 
may  not  be  called  to  account  in  any  court  of  law  or  by  any 
legal  process.  .  .  . 

THE   POWERS   OF  THE  CROWN 

,,  .  .  •  •  •  •  • 

Powers,  Theoretical  and  Actual.  —  It  is  not, ...  the  origin 
of  the  royal  power,  but  rather  the  manner  of  its  exercise,  that 
fixes  the  essential  character  of  monarchy  in  Great  Britain 
to-day.  The  student  of  this  phase  of  the  subject  is  confronted 
at  the  outset  with  a  paradox  which  has  found  convenient  ex- 
pression in  the  aphorism  that  the  king  reigns  but  does  not 
govern.  The  meaning  of  the  aphorism  is  that,  while  the  sov- 
ereign is  possessed  of  all  the  inherent  dignity  of  royalty,  it  is 
left  to  him  actually  to  exercise  in  but  a  very  restricted  measure 
the  powers  which  are  involved  in  the  business  of  government. 
Technically,  all  laws  are  made  by  the  crown  in  parliament; 
all  judicial  decisions  are  rendered  by  the  crown  through  the 
courts  ;  all  laws  are  executed  and  all  administrative  acts  are 
performed  by  the  crown.   But  in  point  of  fact  laws  are  enacted 


THE  PLACE  OF  THE  CROWN  491 

by  Parliament  independently  ;  verdicts  are  brought  in  by  tri- 
bunals whose  immunity  from  royal  domination  is  thoroughly 
assured  ;  and  the  executive  functions  of  the  state  are  exercised 
all  but  exclusively  by  the  ministers  and  their  subordinates. 
One  who  would  understand  what  English  monarchy  really 
is  must  take  account  continually  both  of  what  the  king  does 
and  may  do  theoretically  and  of  what  he  does  and  may  do 
in  actual  practice.   .   .   . 

Principles  Governing  the  Actual  Exercise  of  Powers.  — After 
full  allowances  have  been  made,  the  powers  of  the  British 
crown  to-day  comprise  a  sum  total  of  striking  magnitude. 
"All  told,"  says  Lowell,  "the  executive  authority  of  the 
crown  is,  in  the  eye  of  the  law,  very  wide,  far  wider  than  that 
of  the  chief  magistrate  in  many  countries,  and  well-nigh  as 
extensive  as  that  now  possessed  by  the  monarch  in  any  gov- 
ernment not  an  absolute  despotism  ;  and  although  the  crown 
has  no  inherent  legislative  power  except  in  conjunction  with 
Parliament,  it  has  been  given  by  statute  very  large  powers 
of  subordinate  legislation.   .   .   ." 

The  next  fundamental  thing  to  be  observed  is  that  the  ex- 
tended powers  here  referred  to  are  exercised,  not  by  the  king 
in  person,  but  by  ministers  with  whose  choosing  the  sovereign 
has  but  little  to  do  and  over  whose  acts  he  has  only  an  inci- 
dental and  extra-legal  control.  Underlying  the  entire  consti- 
tutional order  are  two  principles  whose  operation  would  seem 
to  reduce  the  sovereign  to  a  sheer  nonentity.  The  first  is  that 
the  crown  shall  perform  no  important  governmental  act  what- 
soever save  through  the  agency  of  the  ministers.  The  second 
is  that  these  ministers  shall  be  responsible  absolutely  to  Par- 
liament for  every  public  act  which  they  perform.  .  .  In  the 
conduct  of  public  affairs  the  ministry  must  conform  to  the 
will  of  the  majority  in  the  House  of  Commons  ;  otherwise 
the  wheels  of  government  would  be  blocked.    And  fn^n  this 


492 


READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 


it  follows  that  the  crown  is  obliged  to  accept,  with  such  grace 
as  may  be,  the  measures  which  the  ministry,  working  with 
the  parliamentary  majority,  formulates  and  for  which  it  stands 
ready  to  shoulder  responsibility.  It  is  open  to  the  king,  of 
course,  to  dissuade  the  ministers  from  a  given  course  of 
action.  But  if  they  cannot  be  turned  back,  and  if  they  have 
the  support  of  a  parliamentary  majority,  there  is  nothing 
that  the  sovereign  can  do  save  acquiesce. 

Appointment  of  Ministers.  —  In  the  naming  of  a  new 
premier,  following  the  retirement  of  a  ministry,  the  king  is 
legally  unhampered ;  but  here  again  in  practice  he  is  bound 
to  designate  the  recognized  leader  of  the  dominant  party,  and 
so  to  pursue  a  course  in  which  there  is  left  no  room  for  the 
exercise  of  discretion.  Only  when  there  is  no  clearly  recog- 
nized leader,  or  when  circumstances  compel  the  formation  of 
a  coalition  ministry,  is  there  a  real  opportunity  for  the  sov- 
ereign to  choose  a  premier  from  a  number  of  more  or  less 
available  men.  In  the  appointment  of  the  remaining  minis- 
ters, and  of  all  persons  whose  offices  are  regarded  as  political, 
the  crown  yields  uniformly  to  the  judgment  of  the  premier. 
The  King's  Speech,  on  the  opening  of  Parliament,  is  written 
by  the  ministers  ;  all  public  communications  of  the  crown  pass 
through  their  hands  ;  peers  are  created  and  honors  bestowed 
in  accord  with  their  advice ;  measures  are  framed  and  execu- 
tive acts  are  undertaken  by  them,  sometimes  without  the  sover- 
eign's knowledge  and  occasionally  even  contrary  to  his  wishes. 

THE  IMPORTANCE  AND  STRENGTH   OF  THE 

MONARCHY 

The  Real  Authority  and  Service  of  the  Crown.  —  It  would 
be  an  error,  however,  to  conclude  that  kingship  in  England 
is  unimportant,  or  even  that  the  power  wielded  in  person  by 


THE   I'J.ACE  OF  THE  CROWN  493 

the  crown  is  nc\2jli^iblc.  On  the  contrary,  the  uses  served  by 
the  crown  are  indisputable  and  the  influence  exerted  upon  the 
course  of  pubHc  affairs  may  be  decisive.  The  sovereign,  in 
the  words  of  Bagehot,  has  three  rights  —  the  right  to  be  con- 
sulted, the  right  to  encourage,  and  the  right  to  warn.  "  A  king 
of  great  sense  and  sagacity,"  it  is  added,  "would  want  no 
others."  Despite  the  fact  that  during  upwards  of  two  hun- 
dred years  the  sovereign  has  not  attended  the  meetings  of 
the  cabinet,  and  so  is  deprived  of  the  opportunity  of  wielding 
influence  directly  upon  the  deliberations  of  the  ministers  as 
a  body,  the  king  keeps  in  close  touch  with  the  premier,  and 
cabinet  councils  at  which  important  lines  of  policy  are  to  be 
formulated  are  preceded  not  infrequently  by  a  conference  in 
which  the  subject  in  hand  is  threshed  out  more  or  less  com- 
pletely by  king  and  chief  minister.  Merely  because  the  ancient 
relation  has  been  reversed,  so  that  now  it  is  the  king  who 
advises  and  the  ministry  that  arrives  at  decisions,  it  does  not 
follow  that  the  advisory  function  is  an  unimportant  thing. 
Queen  Victoria  many  times  wielded  influence  of  a  decisive 
nature  upon  the  public  measures  of  her  reign,  especially  in 
respect  to  the  conduct  of  foreign  relations.  The  extent  of 
such  influence  cannot  be  made  a  matter  of  record,  because 
the  ministers  are  in  effect  bound  not  to  publish  the  fact  that 
a  decision  upon  a  matter  of  state  has  been  taken  at  the 
sovereign's  instance.  It  is  familiarly  known,  however  —  to 
cite  a  recent  illustration — that  Edward  \'II.  approved  and 
encouraged  the  Haldane  army  reforms,  that  he  sought  to 
dissuade  the  House  of  Lords  from  the  rejection  of  the  Lloyd- 
George  budget  of  1909,  and  that  he  discouraged  the  raising, 
in  any  form,  of  the  issue  of  the  reconstitution  of  the  upper 
chamber.  In  other  words,  while  as  a  constitutional  monarch 
content  to  remain  in  the  background  of  political  controversy, 
the  late  king  not  only  had  opinions  but  did  not  hesitate  to 


494  READINGS   IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

make  them  known  ;  and  in  the  shaping  and  execution  of 
the  Liberal  programme  his  advice  was  at  times  a  factor  of 
importance. 

Why  Monarchy  Survives.  —  Monarchy  in  Great  Britain 
is  a  sohd  and,  so  far  as  can  be  foreseen,  a  lasting  reality. 
Throughout  the  tempestuous  years  1 909-191 1,  when  the 
nation  was  aroused  as  it  had  not  been  in  generations  upon 
the  issue  of  constitutional  reform,  and  when  every  sort  of 
project  was  being  warmly  advocated  and  as  warmly  opposed, 
without  exception  every  suggested  programme  took  for  granted 
the  perpetuation  of  the  monarchy  as  an  integral  part  of  the 
governmental  system.  In  the  general  bombardment  to  which 
the  hereditary  House  of  Lords  was  subjected  hereditary  king- 
ship wholly  escaped.  The  reasons  are  numerous  and  com- 
plex. They  arise  in  part,  though  by  no  means  so  largely  as 
is  sometimes  imagined,  from  the  fact  that  monarchy  in  Eng- 
land is  a  venerable  institution  and  the  innate  conservatism 
of  the  Englishman,  while  permitting  him  from  time  to  time 
to  regulate  and  modify  it,  restrains  him  from  doing  anything 
so  revolutionary  as  to  abolish  it.  That  upon  certain  conspicu- 
ous occasions,  as  in  the  Cromwellian  period,  and  again  in 
1688,  kingship  has  owed  its  very  life  to  the  conservative 
instinct  of  the  English  people  is  well  enough  known  to  every 
student  of  history.  But  to-day,  as  ever,  the  institution  rests 
upon  a  basis  very  much  more  substantial  than  a  mere  national 
predilection.  Monarchy  remains  impregnably  entrenched 
because  the  crown,  in  addition  to  comprising  an  accustomed 
feature  of  the  governmental  economy,  fulfills  specific  ends 
which  are  recognized  universally  to  be  eminently  worth  while, 
if  not  indispensable.  As  a  social,  moral,  and  ceremonial 
agency,  and  as  a  visible  symbol  of  the  unity  of  the  nation, 
king  and  court  occupy  an  immeasurable  place  in  the  life 
and  thought  of  the  people  ;    and  even  within  the  domain  of 


TlIK  TARTIES  OF  TU  DAY  495 

government,  to  employ  the  figure  of  Lowell,  if  the  crown  is  no 
longer  the  motive  power  of  the  ship  of  state,  it  is  the  spar  on 
which  the  sail  is  bent,  and  as  such  it  is  not  only  a  useful  but 
an  essential  part  of  the  vessel.  The  entire  governmental  order 
of  Great  Hrit:iin  hinges  upon  the  parliamentary  system,  and 
nowhere  has  that  system  been  reduced  to  satisfactory  opera- 
tion without  the  presence  of  some  central,  but  essentially  de- 
tached, figure,  whether  a  king  or,  as  in  France,  a  president 
with  the  attributes  of  kingship.  It  is  fundamentally  because 
the  English  people  have  discerned  that  kingship  is  not  nec- 
essarily incompatible  with  popular  government  that  the  mon- 
archy has  persisted.  If  royalty  had  been  felt  to  stand  inevitably 
in  the  path  of  democratic  progress,  it  is  inconceivable  that 
all  the  forces  of  tradition  could  have  pulled  it  through  the 
past  seventy-five  or  eighty  years.  As  it  is,  while  half  a  cen- 
tury ago  there  was  in  the  countr)-  a  small  republican  group 
which  was  fond  of  urging  that  the  monarchy  was  but  a  source 
of  needless  expense,  to-day  there  is  hardly  a  vestige,  in  any 
grade  of  society,  of  anti-monarchical  sentiment. 


Number  S2 

THE   PARTIES   OF  TO-DAY 

Frederic  Austin  Ogg.    The  Governments  of  EH7vpe,  pp.  162-166. 

Significance  of  "  Liberal  "  and  "  Conservative."  —  Of  the 
four  political  parties  of  Great  Britain  to-day  one,  the  Irish 
Nationalist,  is  localized  in  Ireland  and  has  for  its  essential 
purpose  the  attainment  of  the  single  end  of  Irish  Home  Rule  ; 
another,  the  Labor  party,  is  composed  all  but  exclusively  of 
workingmcn.  mainly  members  of  trade-unions,  and  exists  to 
promote  the  interests  of  the  laboring  masses  ;  while  the  two 


496  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

older  and  more  powerful  ones,  the  Liberal  and  the  Conserv- 
ative or  Unionist,  are  broadly  national  in  their  constituencies 
and  well-nigh  universal  in  the  range  of  their  principles  and 
policies.  It  is  essential  to  observe,  however,  that  while  the 
programme  of  the  Nationalists  is,  at  least  to  a  certain  point, 
perfectly  precise,  and  that  of  the  Laborites  is  hardly  less  so, 
there  is  no  longer,  despite  the  heat  of  recurring  electoral  and 
parliamentary  combats,  much  that  is  fundamental  or  perma- 
nent in  the  demarcation  which  sets  off  the  two  major  parties 
the  one  against  the  other.  Even  the  names  "  Liberal  "  and 
"  Conservative  "  denote  in  reality  much  less  than  might  be 
supposed.  During  the  generation  which  began  with  the  Re- 
form Act  of  1832  the  Liberals,  indeed,  extended  the  fran- 
chise to  the  middle  classes,  reformed  the  poor  law,  overhauled 
the  criminal  law,  introduced  a  new  and  more  satisfactory 
scheme  of  municipal  administration,  instituted  public  pro- 
vision for  elementary  education,  enacted  statutes  to  safeguard 
the  public  health,  removed  the  disabilities  of  dissenters,  and 
assisted  in  the  overthrow  of  the  protective  system.  But  if  the 
Conservatives  of  the  period  18 30- 18 70  played,  in  general, 
the  role  implied  by  their  party  designation,  their  attitude 
none  the  less  was  by  no  means  always  that  of  obstructionists, 
and  in  the  days  of  the  Disraelian  leadership  they  became 
scarcely  less  a  party  of  reform  than  were  their  opponents. 
Beginning  with  the  Reform  Act  of  1 867,  a  long  list  of  pro- 
gressive and  even  revolutionizing  measures  must  be  credited 
to  them,  and  in  late  years  they  and  the  Liberals  have  vied  in 
advocating  old  age  pensions,  factory  legislation,  accident  insur- 
ance, housing  laws,  and  other  sorts  of  advanced  and  remedial 
governmental  action.  The  differences  which  separate  the  two 
parties  are  not  so  much  those  of  principle  or  of  political 
dogma  as  those  of  policy  respecting  immediate  and  particular 
measures,   and   especially   those   of  attitude  toward   certain 


THE  PARrii:S  OF   ro-DAV  497 

important  organizations  and  interests.  The  Liberals  assert 
themselves  to  be  more  trustful  of  the  people  and  more  con- 
cerned about  the  popular  welfare,  but  the  Conservatives  enter 
a  denial  which  possesses  plausibility.  It  is  probably  true  that 
the  Liberals  have  fostered  peace  and  economy  with  more 
resoluteness  than  have  their  rivals,  yet  so  far  as  expenditures 
go  the  Liberal  administration  to-day  is  laying  out  more  money 
than  was  ever  laid  out  by  a  Conservative  government  in  time 
of  peace.  The  Liberals  are  seemingly  more  regardful  of  the 
interests  of  Scotland,  Wales,  and  Ireland,  but  the  difference 
is  not  so  large  as  is  sometimes  supposed. 

Present-Day  Issues.  — Aside  from  the  tariff  question  (and 
the  Conservatives  are  far  from  united  upon  the  Chamberlain 
programme),  the  principal  issues  which  separate  the  two 
leading  parties  to-day  are  those  which  arise  from  the  Conserva- 
tive attitude  of  friendliness  toward  the  House  of  Lords,  the 
Established  Church,  the  landowners,  and  the  publicans.  Most 
of  the  political  contests  of  recent  years  have  been  waged  upon 
questions  pertaining  to  the  constitution  of  the  upper  chamber, 
denominational  control  of  education,  disestablishment,  the  tax- 
ation of  land,  and  the  regulation  of  the  liquor  traffic,  and  in 
all  of  these  matters  the  Liberals  have  been  insisting  upon 
changes  which  their  opponents  either  disapprove  entirely  or 
desire  to  confine  within  narrower  bounds  than  those  proposed. 
In  the  carrying  through  of  the  Parliament  Bill  of  191 1,  pro- 
viding a  means  b)'  which  measures  may  be  enacted  into  law 
over  the  protest  of  the  Conservative  majority  in  the  Lords, 
the  Liberals  achieved  their  greatest  triumph  since  1832.  The 
party  stands  committed  to-day  to  a  large  number  of  far-reaching 
projects,  including  the  extension  of  social  insurance,  the 
revision  of  the  electoral  system,  the  establishment  of  Home 
Rule,  and,  ultimately,  a  reconstitution  of  the  second  chamber 
as  promised  in  the  preamble  of  the  Parliament  Act.    At  the 


498  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

date  of  writing  (October,  191 2)  there  are  pending  in  Parlia- 
ment a  momentous  measure  for  the  granting  of  Home  Rule 
to  Ireland  and  another  for  the  overhauling  of  the  electoral 
system,  an  important  bill  for  the  disestablishment  of  the 
Church  in  Wales,  a  measure  virtually  annulling  the  principle 
involved  in  the  Osborne  Decision,  and  several  minor  Govern- 
ment proposals.  The  recent  victories  of  the  Liberals  have 
been  won  with  the  aid  of  Labor  and  Irish  Nationalist  votes, 
and  the  concessions  which  have  been,  and  are  being,  made 
to  the  interests  of  these  auxiliary  parties  may  be  expected  to 
affect  profoundly  the  course  of  legislation  during  the  continu- 
ance of  the  Liberal  ascendancy.  There  are,  it  may  be  said, 
indications  that  the  Liberals  possess  less  strength  through- 
out the  country  than  they  exhibited  during  the  critical  years 
1 9 1  o- 1 9 1 1 .  At  thirty-eight  by-elections  contested  by  the 
Unionists  since  December,  19 10,  the  Liberals  have  suffered 
a  net  loss  of  eight  seats  ;  and  one  of  the  contests  lost  was 
that  in  Midlothian,  long  the  constituency  represented  by 
Gladstone,  which  returned,  in  September,  191 2,  a  Conserva- 
tive member  for  the  first  time  in  thirty-eight  years.  There  is 
a  tradition  that  when  a  Liberal  government  is  defeated  in 
Midlothian  the  end  of  that  government  is  not  far  distant. 
Prophecy  in  such  matters,  however,  is  futile.  Meanwhile  the 
Unionists  continue  to  be  divided  upon  the  tariff,  but  in  the 
main  they  are  united  in  opposition  to  the  overturning  of 
the  ancient  constitutional  system,  although  they  no  longer 
generally  oppose  a  moderate  reform  of  the  House  of  Lords. 
In  a  speech  delivered  at  Leeds,  November  16,  191 1,  the  new 
parliamentary  leader  of  the  party,  Mr.  Bonar  Law,  enumerated 
as  the  immediate  Unionist  purposes  ( i )  to  oppose  the  Govern- 
ment's Welsh  Disestablishment  scheme,  (2)  to  resist  Home 
Rule,  (3)  to  labor  for  tariff  reform  as  the  only  practicable 
means  of  solving  the  problem  of  unemployment,  and  (4)  to 
defend  at  all  costs  the  unity  of  the  Empire. 


TiiE  I'ARllES  OF  TO-DAY  499 

Party  Composition.  —  Both  of  the  great  parties  as  consti- 
tuted to-day  possess  substantial  strength  in  all  portions  of  the 
kingdom  save  Ireland,  the  Liberals  being  in  the  preponder- 
ance in  Scotland,  Wales,  and  northern  h.ngland,  and  the 
Conservatives  in  the  south  and  southwest.  Within  the  Con- 
servative ranks  are  found  much  the  greater  portion  of  the 
people  of  title,  wealth,  and  social  position  ;  nearly  all  of  the 
clergy  of  the  Established  Church,  and  some  of  the  Dissenters ; 
a  majority  of  the  graduates  of  the  universities  and  of  members 
of  the  bar  ;  most  of  the  prosperous  merchants,  manufacturers, 
and  financiers  ;  a  majority  of  clerks  and  approximately  half 
of  the  tradesmen  and  shopkeepers  ;  and  a  very  considerable 
mass,  though  not  in  these  days  half,  of  the  workingmen. 
During  the  second  half  of  the  nineteenth  century  the  well- 
to-do  and  aristocratic  Whig  element  in  the  Liberal  party  was 
drawn  over,  in  the  main,  to  the  ranks  of  the  Conservatives, 
and  to  this  day  the  Liberal  party  contains  but  a  small  pro- 
portion of  the  rank  and  wealth  of  the  kingdom.  It  is  pre- 
emincndy  an  organization  of  the  middle  and  popular  classes. 

The  Independent  Labor  Party.  —  The  Labor  party  of  the 
present  day  is  the  product  largely  of  the  twin  agencies  of 
socialism  and  trade-unionism.  As  early  as  1868  two  persons 
sought  seats  in  Parliament  as  representatives  of  labor,  and  at 
the  elections  of  1874  there  were  no  fewer  than  thirteen  labor 
candidates,  two  of  whom  were  successful.  Great  industrial 
upheavals  of  succeeding  years,  notably  the  strike  of  the  Lon- 
don dock  laborers  in  1889,  together  with  the  rise  of  new 
organizations  composed  of  unskilled  labor  and  pronouncedly 
infected  with  socialism,  created  demand  for  the  interference 
of  the  state  for  the  improvement  of  labor  conditions  and  led 
eventually  to  the  organization  of  the  Independent  Labor  Party 
in  1893.  The  aim  of  this  party  as  set  forth  in  its  constitution 
and  rules  is  essentially  socialistic,  namely,  '"  the  establishment 
of  collective  ownershio  and  control  of  the  means  of  production. 


500  READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 

distribution,  and  exchange  "  ;  and  the  working  programme 
as  originally  announced  includes  (i)  a  universal  eight-hour 
day,  (2)  the  abolition  of  over-time,  piece-work,  and  the  employ- 
ment of  children  under  fourteen,  (3)  state  provision  for  the 
ill,  the  invalid,  and  the  aged,  (4)  free,  non-sectarian  education 
of  all  grades,  (5)  the  extinction  by  taxation  of  unearned  in- 
comes, and  (6)  universal  disarmament.  To  this  programme 
has  been  added  woman's  suffrage,  a  second  ballot  in  parlia- 
mentary elections,  municipal  control  of  the  liquor  traffic  and 
of  hospitals,  and  a  number  of  other  proposed  innovations. 
At  the  elections  of  1895  the  party  named  twenty-eight  candi- 
dates, but  no  one  of  them  was  successful  and  Keir  Hardie, 
founder  and  president,  lost  the  seat  which  he  had  occupied 
since  1892.  In  1900  it  attained,  in  the  re-election  of  Hardie, 
its  first  parliamentary  victor}',  and  in  1906  when  the  tide  of 
radicalism  was  running  high  seven  of  its  candidates  and  six- 
teen of  its  members  were  elected  to  the  House  of  Commons. 
The  Labor  Party  To-day.  —  The  Independent  Labor  Party 
has  been  throughout  its  history  avowedly  socialistic.  It  has 
sought  and  obtained  the  adherence  of  thousands  of  laboring 
men,  some  of  whom  are,  and  some  of  whom  are  not,  social- 
ists. But  its  character  is  too  radical  to  attract  the  mass  of 
trade-union  members  and  alongside  it  there  has  grown  up  a 
larger  and  broader  organization  known  simply  as  the  Labor 
Party.  A  trade-union  congress  held  at  London  in  September, 
1899,  caused  to  be  brought  together  an  assemblage  of  rep- 
resentatives of  all  co-operative,  trade-union,  socialist,  and 
working-class  organizations  which  were  willing  to  share  in 
an  effort  to  increase  the  representation  of  labor  in  Parliament. 
This  body  held  its  first  meeting  at  London  in  February,  1900, 
and  an  organization  was  formed  in  which  the  ruling  forces 
were  the  politically  inclined  but  non-socialistic  trade-unions. 
The  object  of  the  affiliation  was  asserted  to  be  "'  to  establish 


THE  PARTIES  OF  T()-J)AY  501 

a  distinct  labor  group  in  Parliament,  who  shall  have  their  own 
whips,  and  agree  upon  their  own  policy,  which  must  embrace 
a  readiness  to  co-operate  with  any  party  which  for  the  time 
being  may  be  engaged  in  promoting  legislation  in  the  direct 
interest  of  labor."  The  growth  of  the  organization  was  rapid, 
and  in  1906  the  name  which  had  been  employed,  i.e..  Labor 
Representation  Committee,  gave  place  to  that  of  Labor  Party. 
At  the  elections  of  1906  twenty-nine  of  the  fifty-one  candidates 
(.)(  this  party  were  chosen  to  the  House  of  Commons.  Taking 
into  account  eleven  members  connected  with  miners'  organi- 
zations and  fourteen  others  who  were  Independent  Laborites 
or  Liberal  Laborites  ("'  Lib.-Labs."),  the  parliament  chosen 
in  1906  contained  a  labor  contingent  aggregating  fifty-four 
members.  Since  1908  there  has  been  in  progress  a  consoli- 
dation of  the  labor  forces  represented  at  Westminster  and, 
although  at  the  elections  of  19 10  some  seats  were  lost,  there 
are  in  the  House  of  Commons  to-day  forty-two  labor  repre- 
sentatives. The  entire  group  is  independent  of,  but  friendly 
toward,  the  Liberal  Government ;  and  since  the  Liberals  stand 
in  constant  need  of  Labor  support,  its  power  in  legislation 
is  altogether  disproportioned  to  its  numbers. 


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INDEX 


Abbot,  I02 

Aden,  475,  476,  482 

Alfred  the  Great,  26-36 

Algiers,  248 

Allegiance,  oath  of,  315 

America,   Civil    War  in,   421,  440; 

War  of  Independence  in,  484 
America,  W^ar  with,  359-363 
American  Revolution,  Causes  of  the, 

345-350 
Amusements,  of  the  Germans,  8  ;  m 

the   thirteenth   century,    121;    at 

Oxford,   137,  144;  in   Elizabeth's 

reign,    227-229 

Anne,     Queen,     the     England     of, 

335-344 
Anti-Corn-Law  League,  417,  418 
Architecture,  Norman,  48-49;  in  a 
mediaeval  monastery,  97-99;  Eliza- 
bethan, 223-224  ;  in  Anne's  reign, 

337-33^ 
Arkwright,   Richard,  403,  404,  407, 

408 
Army,    early    English    (Fyrd),    17; 

under  Norman  kings,  42,  50;   in 

the  civil  war,  264;   in  1685,  290; 

in  India.  481 
Ascham,  Roger,    T//e  Schokfnaster, 

203 
Asia,  479,  483 

Asquith,  and  Lloyd-George,  446-458 
Asquith,  H.  II.,  speech  of,  459 
Atkins,  Thomas,  481 
Augustine,  11,12 
Australia,  477,  479 

Bacon,  E.  M..  English  Voyages  of 
Aih'eittttrc  and  Discoz'try,   172 

Bannockburn,  145-146 

Barons,  and  the  Great  Charter, 
75-82,   86-88;    under    Simon   de 


Montfort,  90,  92  ;  as  tenants  of 
the  king,   108 

Bath,  338 

Becket,  59 

Bede,  Ecclesiastical  History  of  the 
English  A'ation,   1 1 

Bemont,  Charles,  Simon  de  Mont- 
fort, Cotnte  de  Leicester,  89 

Bertha,  cjueen  of  Kent,  12 

Besant,  Sir  Walter,  Alfred  the  Great, 
26 

Bishops,  in  early  English  kingdom, 
16,  17;  in  House  of  Lords,  474 

Black  Prince,  153-154,  161-171 

Board  of  Trade,  346-347 

Bocland,  18 

Boleyn,  Anne,  184,  1S9,  206-208 

Bologne,  University  of,  134 

Borough.    See  Burgh 

Borough-reeve,  16 

Bradford,  William,  Of  Plimoth  Plan- 
tation, 234 

Bright,  John,  M.  P.,  Picblic  Addresses 

<y.  415 

British  Empire.    See  Empire 

British  possessions,  475 

Brooks,     Sydney,     Some     English 

Statesmen,  446 
Brougham,  Lord,  391 
Bruce's    Address    to    his    Army    at 

B;inn(H:kl:)urn,    145-146 
Ituckingham,  242,  246-248 
Budget  of  1909,  457,  462,  464,  493 
Burgesses  of  Calais,  1 58-161 
Burgh,  16 
P>urke,    Edmund,    attitude    toward 

home  rule,  443 
Burma,  476,  481 
Burns,  John,  44S 
Bums,    Robert,    Scots,    IV/ia    Hae, 

M5 


507 


=;oS 


READINGS  IN  ENGLISH  HISTORY 


Cabal,  424 

Cabinet,  English,  the  Development 

of  the, 422-432 
Cabinet    Government    in    England, 

432-437 
Cabot,  John,  Voyages  of,  172-177 

Cabot,  Sebastian,  173-175 

Cadiz,  217,  220,  222,  246 

Calais,  Siege  of,  1 56-161 

Calais  possessed  by  England,  163 

Calicut,  405 

Campbell-Bannerman,  463 

Campbell,  Thomas,  Poetical  Works, 

Canada,  354,  356,  475,  479 

Cape  Breton,  175,  356 

Cartwright,  Dr.,  405 

Catherine  of  Aragon,  178,  191-193 

Cavendish,  Thomas,  217 

Central  Africa,  475,  477 

Ceylon,  475,  476,  477-  480 

Chalgrove  Field,  264-265 

Chamberlain,  Joseph,  speech  of,  483 

Charles  I,  242-244,  263-264 

Charles  I,  Attempted  Arrest  of  Five 
Members  of  the  House  of  Com- 
mons by,   250-255 

Charles  I,  Death  of,  272 

Charles  I,  Letters  of  (to  Strafford 
and  to  the  House  of  Lords), 
270-272 

Charles  II,  Character  of,  277-280 

Charles  of  Luxembourg,  king  of 
Bohemia,   152 

Charter,  The  Great,  83-87 

Charter,  Winning  of  the  Great, 
74-82.    See  also  Magna  Charta 

Charter  of  Henry  I,  51-54,  74>  77-79- 
86 

Chatham,  Earl  of.    See  Pitt 

Cheyney,  E.  P.,  Readings  in  English 
History,  129,  270 

Chippenham,  Danish  headquarters, 
26 

Chivalry,  170 

Church^  in  Dunstan's  day,  24  ;  ef- 
fects of  Norman  Conquest  on, 
40-41 ;  under  Charter  of  Henry  I, 
52;  under  Great  Charter,  83;  law 
of,  111-112;  parties  in,  235;  in 
1685,  294-295;    in   Anne's  reign, 


344  ;  movement  toward  disestab- 
lishment of,  474;  conservatives 
and,  497,  499 ;  disestablishment 
of  Welsh,  498 

Churchill,  John.    See  Marlborough 

Civil  List,  489-490 

Civil  War  in  America,  421,  440 

Clarendon,  Earl  of.    See  Hyde 

Clergy,  in  1685,  295-298;  in  Anne's 
reign,  344 

Cleric,  11 2-1 13 

Cloister,  98,  10 1 

Cobden,  Richard,  415-422 

Coffee-houses,  342 

Coifi,  13-15 

Colonial  policy,  toward  American 
colonies,  346-350 ;  advocated  by 
Pitt,  362  ;  changes  of,  483-486 

Common  council  of  the  realm,  84, 

,     87 

Commons.    See  House  of 

Conn  (Conaeus)  Mary  Queen  of 
Scots,  2 1 1 

Conservatives,  436,  466,  495-499 

Constitution,  effect  of  Norman  Con- 
quest on,  43;  Chatham's  new 
Bible  of,  87  ;  development  of,  in 
1911,461  ;  fictions  of,  462  ;  demo- 
cratic spirit  of,  465 ;  steps  in 
growth  of,  466 

Convent,  102 

Convention  Parliament,  312 

Conversion  of  the  English  (Mission 
of  Augustine ;  Conversion  of 
North  umbria),    11-15 

Corn  Law,  417-419 

Cotton  gin,  406 

County.    See  Shire 

Court  of  Common  Pleas,  84 

Creighton.  Mandell,  The  Age  of 
Elizabeth,   222 

Cressy,  Battle  of,  147-155 

Cressy,  Black  Prince  at,  162-164 

Crompton,  404 

Cromwell,  Oliver,  264,  276-277 

Cromwell,  Oliver  (A  Royalist  View), 
273-275 

Cromwell,  Oliver  (A  Modern  View), 
276-277 

Cromwell,  To    the    Lord   General 
(A   Puritan  View),   275-276 


INDEX 


509 


Cromwell,  Tliomas.  iSS-iqi,  197 

Crown,  I'liice  of,  in  Knglish  Govern- 
ment (Legal  Status  and  Privi- 
leges; Towers;  Importance  and 
Strength),  4S8-495 

Crown,  powers  of,  under  ]V\\\  of 
Rights,  310-324;  prerogatives  of 
to-day,  460-461,  467;  theoretical 
and  actual  powers  of,  490-491  ; 
executive  authority  of,  491-492; 
real  authority  and  service  of, 
492-494  ;  place  of,  in  thought  of 
people,  494-495 

Crusade,  An  Incident  of  the  Third, 

71-74 
Cyprus,  476 

1  )anes,  26-20.  9=; 

Daie,  Virginia,  21S,  221 

Disraeli,  393-399-  496 

Divine  Right  of  Kings,  232, 233-234, 
278,  324 

Drake  (Francis),  216-220 

Dress,  of  the  (Jermans,  7;  in  thir- 
teenth century,  118;  in  Eliza- 
beth's reign,  226-227 

Dunstan,  19-25 

Dwellings,  of  the  Germans,  6-7  ;  in 
thirteenth  century,  116;  in  Eliza- 
beth's reign,  224;  in  1685,  286, 
292 

Eadgar,  21,  23-25 

Ealdorman,  i(),  17 

Education,  of  German  youth,  7;  in 
Dunstan's  day,  22  ;  under  Alfred, 
33 ;  in  a  mediaval  monastery, 
99-101,  105;  at  Oxford,  135;  in 
1685,  292,  297;  work  of  the  Lib- 
erals for,  496 

Education  and  Accomplishments  of 
Mai7  Queen  of  Scots,  211-212 

Education  of  Lady  Jane  Grey  and 
of  Queen  Elizabeth,  203-206 

Edward  T.  74,  79,  121 

Edward  III,  147-149,  153-154,  156- 
163,  166 

Edward  VII,  Civil  List  of.  490;  in- 
fluence of,  on  legislation,  493 

Edward  the  Ulack  Prince,  161-17  i 

Edwin,  king  of  Northumbria,  13 


Egypt,  475-477 

Elections    to    Parliament,   364-366, 

,  3''>'.  3^3<  397.  435.  49«.  50 ' 
Eliot,  Sir  John,  242-245 
Eliot,  Sir  John,  speech  of,  245  ;  cor- 
respondence with  Hampden,  257 
Jlli/abeth,  education  of,  205-206 
Elizabeth,  Character  of,  206-211 
Klizabeth  and  the  royal  veto,  460 
Elizabethan    Sea    Kings    and    the 

Spanish   Armada,  216-222 
Empire,  True  Conception  of,  483- 

487 
Empire,  British,  possessions  of,  475- 
476  ;  compared  with  Roman,  477  ; 
Unionist  policy  toward,  498 
England,  State  of,  in  1685,  286-309 
England  of  Queen  Anne,  335-344 
English,  Conversion  of,  11-15 
English,  Government  of,  15-18 
English  Life  in  IClizabeth's  Reign, 

222—2 "?  I 

Erasmus.  181 

Essex,  Earl  of,  264-265 

Ethelbert,  11,31 

Evesham,  battle  of,  91-94 

Exclusion  clause,  317 

Extension  of  the  Franchise,  437-442 

Factory  system,  409-414 

F"airs,  126-129 

"  Fancy  franchises,"  383 

Feudal  system  in  England,  90 

Fiefs,  ic8 

Fire  in  London,  280-2S4 

Firth,  C.  H.,  article  on  Hampden, 

256 
Fiske.  John,  O/d  J'/y^/z/m  and  Her 

A'eighbors,  216 
Flving  Coach,  304 
Folkland,  18 
Food    and    drink,    in    a    mediaeval 

monastery,  104-105  ;  in  thirteenth 

century.  1 16-1 18;  at  Oxford,  143; 

in  E]izabeth'sreign,226;  in  Anne's 

reign,  341 
Forest  I^ws  under  Great  Charter, 

85 
Forfeiture,  53 
Fort  Ducjuesne,  356 
Fox  (Charles  James),  350-351 


5IO 


READINGS   IN   ENGLISH   HISTORY 


France,  relations  with  England  after 
Norman  Conquest,  41  ;  Edward 
Ill's   claim   to,    162;    attitude   of 


William  III  to, 


330-331 


Franchise,    Extension   of,   437-442, 

463,  496 
Francis  I,  king  of  France,  178,  181, 

183 

Freeman,  E.  A.,  History  of  the  Aor- 
vian  Conquest  of  England,  36; 
Sho7-t  History  0/  the  Norman  Con- 
quest, 39  i  on  War  of  Independ- 
ence, 345 

Free  tenants,  109 

French  War  in  America,  355-356 

Friars,  1 13 

Froissart,  Chronicles,  147,  156 

Fyrd,  17 

Gardiner,  S.  R.,  History  of  England, 
250;   Oliver  Cromwell,  276 

Genoways,  1 51-152 

Gentry,  country,  119,  293-295,  295 

George  I,  and  the  Cabinet,  426; 
and  Act  of  Settlement,  489 

George  III,  345 

George  V,  489,  490 

Germans,  The  Early,  1-9 

Gibbins,  H.  de  B.,  Industrial  History 
of  England,  122 

Gibraltar,  475,  476 

Gilds,  129-133,  230 

Giustinian,  Sebastian,  Foitr  Years 
at  the  Court  of  Henry   VIII,  185 

Gladstone  and  Disraeli,  393-399 

Gladstone,  attitude  toward  House 
of  Lords,  463;  speeches,  437, 
442 

Glastonbury,  20,  21,  22,  23 

Golden  Dragon,  standard  of  Wes- 
sex,  27-28 

Government  of  the  English,  15-18 

Great  Charter,  83-87 

Great  Charter,  Winning  of,  74-82. 
See  also  Magna  Charta 

Great  Reform  P)ill,  379-392 

Green,  J.  R.,  The  Conquest  of  Eng- 
land, 19;  A  Sho7-t  History  of  the 
Eftglish  People,  206,  231,  277; 
cited  on   Bill  of  Rights,  322 

Gregory  I,  1  i 


Grey,  Lady  Jane,  the  education  of, 

203-205 
Grey,  Lord,  379,  385-392 
Guild.    See  Gilds 
Gutenberg,  411 

Hakluyt,  172,  176 

Hampden,  John,  250,  253,  256-266 

Hardie,  Keir,  500 

Hargreaves,  James,  403 

Hart,  A.  B.,  The  Obvious  Orient,  474 

Hawker,  R.  S.,  Cornish  Ballads  and 

Other  Foetns,  284 
Heming,  301,  302 
Henrietta  Maria,  251-252 
Henry    I,    Charter    of,    51-54,    74. 

77-79,  86 
Henry   II,   75,   86;    description   of, 

55-59 

Henry  II  and  Becket,  59-70 

Henry  (VII),  172-176 

Henry  VIII,  Character  of,  177-184 

Henry  VIII,  suppression  of  monas- 
teries, 95;  portrait  by  Holbein, 
184;  and  Thomas  More,  195-196; 
and  Elizabeth,  206;  prerogatives 

of,  433 

Highways  (in  1685)  and  highway- 
men, 302-306 

Hill,  Mabel,  Liberty  Documents,  310 

Holbein,  iSi,  184 

Holland,  Pilgrims  in,  236-241 

Home  Rule  for  Ireland,  442-446, 
463,  495,  497.  498 

Hong  Kong,  475,  478,  479,  482 

Hosmer,  J.  K.,  Samuel  Adams,  345  ; 
cited  on  Bill  of  Rights,  323 

House  of  Commons,  de  Montfort 
and,  90,  467  ;  privileges  of,  244, 
254,  263;  in  1832,  380-392,  462; 
and  the  Cabinet,  423,  425,  426; 
and  the  Prime  Minister,  431  ;  in 
1884,  463  ;  vs.  House  of  Lords  in 
1886  and  1907,  463;  as  affected 
by  Parliament  Bill,  464;  from 
1832  to  191 1,  466;  its  present 
power,  467  ;  membership  of,  469- 
473;  compared  with  House  of 
Representatives  in  United  States, 
469-470,  472-473;  responsibiUty 
of  ministers  to,   491 


INDEX 


5" 


House  of  Lords,  I>etter  of  Charles  I 
to,  271-272;  in  1832,  3S4,  3S7- 
389,  391,  462;  relation  to  House 
of  Commons,  392 ;  and  the  Cabi- 
net, 432-434;  7s.  public  opinion, 
436;  and  restriction  of  its  veto 
power,  459-461  ;  functions  in 
Parliament,  462,  464,  465 ;  Glad- 
stone's attitude  toward,  463 ; 
Campbell-lJannerman's  attitude 
toward,  46^;  tj-.  House  of  Com- 
mons in  18S6  and  1907,  463;  as 
affected  by  Parliament  Bill,  464  ; 
from  1832  to  191 1,  466;  its  pres- 
ent power,  467  ;  membership,  474; 
attitude  of  Edward  \'II  toward, 
493;    Conservatives  and,  497 

Houses.    See  Dwellings 

Huguenots,  405 

Hundred,  15,  16,  17 

Hundred-man,  16,  17 

Hundred-moot,  16 

Huyghens,  408 

Hyde,  Edward,  Earl  of  Clarendon, 
Histoi'v  of  the  Rebellion  and  Civil 
Wars  in  England,  273 

Independent  Labor  Party,  499-501 
Lidia,  475,  476,  477,  478,  479,  480, 

481,  482,  483 
Industrial  Revolution,  399-414 
Industrial  villages,  122 
Industry,  domestic  system  of,  409- 

414;  factory  system  of,  409-414 
Inglis,  Sir  Robert,  384 
Ireland,  Home  Rule  for,  442-446 
Irish    Nationalists,    437,    461,    495, 

496,  498 

James  I,  Character  of,  231-232 
James   I,  IVorkes  of  the  Most  High 

and  Mightie  Prince,  James^   233 
Tames  II,  270,  310-312,  332 
Jessopp,  Augustus,  The  Coming  of 

the   Friars,    and    Other    Historic 

Essays,  95,  106 
Jews  at  Oxford,  137 
John,  king  oi  England,  75-87 
John,  king  of  France,  165 
Jusserand.  J.  J.,  A  Literary  History 

of  the  English  People,  177 


Katherine.    See  Catherine 

Kay,  John,  402 

King,  the,  among  the  Cermans,  2 ; 
in  early  England,  17,  18;  Alfred 
as,  30 ;  powers  of,  as  affected  by 
the  Norman  Conquest  on,  41-42; 
in  the  (Jreat  Charter,  83-87;  as 
landlord,  108  ;  ideal  of  Charles  II 
as  to,  279 ;  powers  of,  in  Bill  of 
Rights,  310-324;  powers  of,  as 
affected  by  Great  Reform  Bill, 
392;  and  the  Cabinet,  422-428, 
432-436 ;  powers  of,  as  distinct 
from  the  powers  of  the  Crown, 
490-491.  See  also  Divine  Right 
of    Kings 

Kipling,  Rudyard,  30,  32,  481 

Knollys,  Sir  Francis,  quoted  in 
Queen  Elizabeth  and  her    Times, 

215 
Knox.  John,  History  of  the  Reforma- 
tion in  Scotland,  2 1  z 

Labor  party,  437,  461,  495,  496,  498, 

500-501 
Labourer  in  the  thirteenth  century, 

II 5-1 2 1 
Lament   of  Earl   Simon,   The,   92- 

94 

Lane,  Ralph,  217 

Langton,  Stephen,  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury,   74-82,  86 

Law,  Bonar,  498 

Lawlessness,  in  thirteenth  century, 
119-120;  in  Elizabeth's  time,  230; 
in  16S5,  305-306;  under  Queen 
Anne,  336-337 

Lecky,  W.  E.  IL,  History  of  Eng- 
land in  the  Eighteenth    Century, 

350 

Lenthall,  255 

Leo  X, 179 

Leyden,  239-241 

Liberals,  437,  456,  461,  465,  495-499, 
501 

Life,  Daily,  in  a  Mediasval  Monas- 
tery, 95-105 

Life,  English,  in   Elizabeth's  reign. 

Life,  Village,  Six  Hundred  Years 
Ago,  106-122 


512 


READINGS  IN  ENGLISH   HISTORY 


Life   at   Oxford    University   in    the 

Middle  Ages,   134-145 
Limoges,  170 
Literature,  under  Alfred,  35  ;  effects 

of    Conquest    on,    47;     monastic, 

lOI 

Little  Englanders,  484 

Liverpool,  popular  election  in,  38 1  ; 

attitude  toward  Reform  Bill,  386 
Lloyd-George,  452-458,  462,  464 
Lloyd-George  Budget,  464,  493 
London,  conditions  in  Alfred's  reign, 

2S-30;  in  1685,  286,  299-302;  in 

Anne's  reign,  336-338 
London,  Fire  in,  2S0-284 
Long  Parliament,  261 
Loom,  401,  405 
Lord  Chancellor,  474 
Lords.    See  House  of  Lords 
Louisburg,  354,  356 
Louis  XIV,  330 
Luffman,  J.,  cited  on  liill  of  Rights, 

320 

Macaulay,  T.  B.,  History  of  England 
from  the  Accession  of  Jain es  II, 
286,  324 ;  cited  on  Bill  of  Rights, 
320 

McCarthy,  Justin,  T/ie  Story  of  the 
People  of  England  in  the  Nine- 
teenth Century,  379  ;  Life  of  Glad- 
stone, 393 

Magna  Charta,  Significance  of, 
87-88,  322,  348.  See  also  Great 
Charter 

Malay  Federated  States,  476,  477, 
480,  483 

Malay  Peninsula,  476,  477,  481 

Malta,  475,  476 

Manor  house,  108-109,  115 

Manufactures,  textile,  123,  340, 
400-402,  406;  cutlery,  123,  340, 
411  ;  wool,  340,  400-402;  cotton, 
340,  406 

Mariners  of  England,  Ye,  377-379 

Market  towns,  123 

Markets,  125-126 

Marlborough,  Duke  of,  332-335,  426 

Marvel,  Andrew.  Iloratian  Ode  upon 
Crotnweirs  Return  from  Ireland, 

27  2 


Mary  Queen  of  Scots,  Education  and 

Accomplishments  of,  21 1-2 12 
Mary   Queen   of   Scots   at    Carlisle, 

215-216 
Mary    Queen    of    Scots    and    John 

Knox,   Interview    between,    212- 

215 
Mediaeval  lowns  and  Gilds,    129- 

133 
Merton,  Walter  de,  137 

Merton  College  (Oxford),  138-141 

Militia  in  1685,  289 

Milton,  John,  I'o  the  Lord  General 
Cromwell,  275-276 

Mohawks,  337 

Monarchy,  and  early  English  Church, 
24  ;  ideas  of  James  I  in  regard  to, 
232-234;  under  Bill  of  Rights, 
322-323;  affected  by  the  Great 
Reform  Bill,  392  ;  prerogatives  of, 
460-461  ;  characteristics  of,  488- 
489  ;  importance  and  strength  of, 
492-493  ;  reasons  for  survival  of, 

494 

Monastery,  Daily  Life  in  a  Mediae- 
val, 95-105 

Alonastery,  in  Alfred's  reign,  33 ; 
definition  of,  96;  church  of,  97; 
cloister  of,  98 ;  library  of,  99 ; 
Scriptorium,  or  Writing-Room,  of, 
100;  chronicle  of,  10 1  ;  abbot  of, 
102  ;  school  of,  105 

Monetage,  53 

Montague,  F.  C,  Elements  of  Eng- 
lish Constitittional  History,  83,  422 

Montcalm,  356 

Montfort,  Simon  de,  89-91 

Montreal,  356 

Moran,  T.  F.,  The  Theory  and  Prac- 
tice of  the  English    Govern?nent, 

467 
More,  Sir  Thomas,  194-203,  189 
Morris,    E.    E.,    The  Age  of  Anne, 

33-'  335 

Nash,  Richard  (Beau),  338 

Navy,  under  Alfred,  29;  in  1685,  290 

Nelson,  Lord,  366-377 

New  College.  Oxford,  134,  141-144 

Newfoundland,  479 

Norgate,  Kate,  yi'//;/  Lackland,  74 


INDEX 


51 


v) 


Norman  Conquest,  The  Results  of 

the,  39-50 
Normandy,  40,  41 
Northumbria,  13-15,  26 

Occupations,  of  the  Germans,  6;  in 
a  mediaeval  monastery,  104-105; 
in  manufacturing  towns,  123;  in 
I'.li/aheth's  reign,  229-230;  in 
Anne's  reign,  340 
Ogg,    F.   A.,    The   Goi'erntnents   of 

Europe,  48S,  495 
Ordeal,  the,  16 

Oriental  Pax  Britannica,  474-483 
Outlook,  They  editorial  in,  461 
Oxford  University,   Life  at,  in  the 
Middle  Ages,   134-145,   193 

Paris,  Univc-sity  of,  134 
Parliament,     Impressions    of,    467- 

474 

Parliament,  Sale  of  Seats  in  (Eight- 
eenth Century),  364-366 

Parliament, relation  towitena-gemot, 
17,467;  under  Alfred  tiie  Great, 
30-35;  under  William  the  Con- 
queror, 43,  44 ;  and  the  Great 
Charter,  87;  of  1265,90;  of  1295, 
91  ;  and  the  Black  Prince,  166; 
and  Buckingham,  242  ;  the  Short, 
260;  the  Long,  261;  views  of 
Charles  II  as  to,  279;  under  Bill 
of  Rights,  310-324;  confers  crown 
on  William  and  Mary,  315,  t^^z; 
and  Revolution  of  1911,324;  and 
the  American  colonies,  349 ;  in 
1832,  380-3S2  ;  and  the  Cabinet, 
423;  and  the  king,  433;  dissolu- 
tion of,  435;  representation  of 
Ireland  in,  444;  representation  of 
Wales  in,  454  ;  ceremony  of  open- 
ing, 459-460;  functions  of  House 
of  Lords  in,  462,  464,  465  ;  dura- 
tion of,  465  ;  kinship  to  American 
institutions,  467 ;  summoned  by 
royal  writ,  488*;  administers  jiroji- 
erty  of  the  crown.  489;  indejiend- 
ence  of,  in  legislation,  400-491  ; 
responsibility  of  ministers  to, 
49  r 

Parliament  Bill,  the,  464-465,  497 


Parties,  William  III  and,  329,  425- 
426;  in  Anne's  reign,  342  ;  minis- 
terial responsibility  to,  426,  431  ; 
and  the  House  of  Commons,  434; 
Conservative  and  Liberal,  436; 
Irish  and  Labor,  437 ;  and  the 
Revolution  of  191 1,  461-466 

Parties  of  To-Uay,  The,  495-501 

I'aulinus,  13,  14 

Paupers.    See  Poor 

Pax  Britannica,  480,  482,  483,  485 

Peel,  Sir  Robert,  390,  420 

Penang,  479,  480,  481 

Pepys,  Samuel,  cited  on  Cromwell, 
277;  cited  on  Charles  II,  278; 
Diary,  280 

Peter  of  Blois,  58 

Peter  of  Blois,  Materials  for  the 
History  of  'Thomas  liecket.  Arch- 
bishop of  Canterbury,  55 

Philip  (Vi),  king  of  France,  148-151, 

•53.  155 
Piiilippa,  queen  of  Edward  III,  161, 

162 
Pitt,  William,  the  Elder,  350-359 
Pitt,    William,    Earl    of    Chatham, 

speeches,  87,  359 
Plimoth  Plantation,  Of,  234-241 
Poitiers,  162,  164-165 
Poor,  in  Elizabeth's  reign,  229;   in 

Anne's  reign,  339 
Port-reeve,  16 
Poundage,  243 
Premier.    See  Prime  Minister 
Prime   Minister,   427-431.   433-435- 

492-493 
Privy  Council,  423,  424,  429 
Pym',  250,  253,  255,  257,  261,  262 

(Quebec,  356 

RafHes,  Sir  Thomas  Stamford,  476, 

480 
Raleigh,. Sir  Walter,  218-220,222,228 
Ralph  of  Coggeshall,  75,  82 
Kali>h  Red.  i  lo-i  1 1 
Ransome,  Cyril, .-/  Short  I/iston-  of 

Ku!:;land,    15;    cited    on    Bill    of 

Rights,  323 
Reform  Bill,  The  Great,  379-392 
Relief,  52 


514 


READINGS   IN  ENGLISH   HISTORY 


Revolution  of  i68S,  322,  324,  425 
Revolution  of   191 1,   The   English, 

461-466 
Rhe,  attack  on,  246,  248 
Richard    (of    the    Holy    Trinity  ?), 
Iti)ierarium       Feregrinorinn       et 
Cesta  Regis  Hicardi,  70,   71 
Richard  I,  Portrait  of  King,  70-71 
Richard  1  in  Third  Crusade,  71-74 
Right,  Declaration  of,  323 
Right,  The  Petition  of,  245-250 
Rights,   The    Bill   of,   87,   310-319; 
comments  on,  320-324  ;  reference 
to,  by  American  colonies,  348 
Rights,   Declaration  of,  322 ;    Peti- 
tion of,  87 
Roanoke  Island,  217,  218,  220,  221 
Robert,  duke  of  Normandy,  51 
Robinson  and  Beard,  Development 

of  iModerii  Europe,  399,  432 
Roger  of  Wendover,  51,  75,  77 
Roger   of   Wendover,    IVie  Flowers 

of  History,   51 
Romilly,  Sir  Samuel,  Memoirs,  364 
Roper,   William,    F/ie   Life   of  Sir 

Thomas  More,   194 
Rougham,  106-108,  no 
Runnimead,  Si 
Rupert,  Prince,  265 
Russell,  Lord  John,  379-392 

Salerno,  University  of,  134 

Saxon  Sea-Rovers,  The,  9-10 

Scutage,  62,  83 

Sea  kings,  219 

Settlement,  Act  of,  489 

Shakespeare,  William,  Kitig  Henry 
the  Eighth,  187 

Shakespeare's  description  of  Eng- 
land, 222-223 

Sheriff,  16-43 

Ship-money  tax,  258-260 

Shire,  15.  16,  17,  18 

Shire-moot,  16 

Shire-reeve,  16 

Short  Parliament,  Hampden  in,  260 

Sidney  (Sir  Philip),  216 

Sid(jnius,  Apollinaris,  Letters,  9 

Simon  de  Montfort.    See  Montfort 

Singapore,  476,  479,  480,  481 

Smith,  Adam,  346,  410,  411 


Smith,    Goldwin,    Oxford  and  her 

Colleges,   1 34 
Song  of   the    W^estern    Men,   The, 

284-285 
South  Africa,  475,  477,  479 
Southey,    Robert,    Life    of  N'elson, 

366 
Spanish  Armada,  216-222,  242 
Speaker,  468,  471 
Spinning  jennies,  403 
Spinning  mule,  404 
Spinning  wheel,  401 
Squires,  in  thirteenth  century,  119; 

in  1685,  291-295 
Stanley,  A.  P.,  Historical  Memorials 

of  Canterbury,  161 
Staple,   124-125;    in  Anne's   reign, 

339-341 
Staple  towns,  124-125 
State    of    England    in    1685,    The, 

286-309 
Steam  engine,  406-408 
Stephen,  60,  66 
Stevens,    C.    E.,    cited   on    Bill    of 

Rights,  323 
St.  Paul's,  337-338 
Stourbridge  fair,  127,  128 
Strafford,  Earl  of,  262  ;  trial  of,  262 
Strafford,  Earl  of.  Defense  of  the, 

266-270 
Strafford,  Earl  of,  Letterof  Charles  I 

to,  270-271 
Straits  Settlement,  475 
Sub-tenants,  108 
Sugar  Act,  347 
Supremacy,  oath  of,  316 

Tacitus,  Germania,  i 
Tasvvell-Langmead,  T.  P.,  cited  on 

Bill  of  Rights,  322 
Templars,  71-73 
Tenants,  free,  109 
Tenants-in-chief,    83,    86.     See   also 

Sub-tenants 
Tennyson,  Alfred,  Becket,  59 
Thane,  17,  18,  35 
Thanet,  1 1,  25 
Theatre,  in  Elizabeth's  reign,  228, 

229;  in    1685,   306 
Thegn.    See  Thane 
Tonnage  and  poundage,  243 


INDEX 


515 


Tories,  in  16S5,  294-295,  29S ;  in 
1685,  30S;  and  William  III,  329, 
425-426;  in  Anne's  reign,  343- 
344;  in  1S32,  384,  387;  in  Dis- 
raeli's day,  395-396;  in  Walpole's 
day,  431-432  ;  of  to-day,  436 

Town-moot,  16 

Town-reeve,  16,  17 

Towns,  Industrial  Villages,  and 
Fairs,   122-129 

Towns  and  cities,  the  rights  of,  84  ; 
growth  and  industries  of,  122-125; 
in  Anne's  reign,  335-336 

Towns  and  Gilds,  Mediaeval,  1 29- 1  ^2 

Township,  16,  17 

Trafalgar,  Battle  of,  366-377 

Traveling  in  16S5,  303-305 

Trelawny,  285 

Trevelyan,  G.  M.,  England  under 
the  Stuarts,  242 

Unionists.    See  Conservatives 

Veto  Power  of  House  of  Lords, 
Restriction  of,  459-461,  464 

Veto  power  of  king,  460,  461 

Victoria,  intiuence  of,  493 

Village  Life  Six  Hundred  Years 
Ago,   106-122 

Villein,  86,  109 

Villeneuve,  368 

Viscount.    See  Sheriff 

Voyages  of  John  Cabot,  The,  172- 

177 

Wages,  in  thirteenth  century,  118; 
in  16S5,  307,  309;  in  Anne's  reign, 

339 
\N  alpole,  Robert,  431 
Walter,  Hubert,  75 
War  with  America,  The,  359-363 
Watt,  James,  408 
Weaving,  400 


Wedmore,  Peace  of,  19 
Wei  Ilai  Wei,  475 
Wellington,  Duke  of,  389-391 
Wendover,  Roger  of,  77/^  Flmuers 

of  History,   51 
Wentvvorth,  Thomas.   See  Strafford 
Wesley,  359 

Wessex,  under  Dunstan  and  Eadgar, 
23-25;    attacked  by   Danes,   26; 
standard    of,    27 ;    Danes   driven 
from,  28 ;  laws  of,  31 
West  Indies,  475 

Whigs,    in    1685,    308;    in    reign    of 
William  III,  329,  425;  in  Anne's 
reign,  343  ;  Pitt's  appeal  to,  352  ; 
under  Anne  and  George  III,  426; 
in    Walpole's    day,    431-432;    of 
to-day,  437,  499 
White,  Governor  John,  218-221 
Whitney,  Kli,  406 
William  the  Marshal,  80 
William  the  Norman,  The  Corona- 
tion of,  36-39 
William  III,  Character  of,  324-331 
William   III,  summons    of,  to    the 
Convention  Parliament,  312;  and 
Duke  of   Marlborough,  ZZ-'IZZ^ 
and  his  ministers,  425 
William  IV,  386 
William  and  Mary,  crown  conferred 

by  Parliament,  315 
Winchester  fair,  127 
Witena-gemot,  17,  35,  43,  467 
Wolfe,  356 

Wolsey,  The  Character  of,  185-187 
Wolsey,  The  Downfall  of,  187-193 
Wolsey  as  Lord  Chancellor,  196, 197 
Wren,  Sir  Christopher,  336-338 
Wycliffe,  140,  142 

Wykeham,  Bishop  of  Winchester, 
141,   142 

Yeomanry,  299 


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